#recruiter fanfiction

[frost-queen]

Touch so foreign (Reader x The recruiter / salesman)

Requested by: @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers,  @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower

Summary: After the games adopts Gi-hun reader to fill the empty hole in his life. Warning you of the man in a suit. When one day you encounter the recruiter by accident, it leads to an argument. Gi-hun coming just in time. Yet now the recruiter starts obessesing over you. Kidnapping you for a game of russian roulette with a twist.

Doorknob in your hand you were ready to leave. – “Y/n!” – hearing your sudden name, made you push the door in the lock once more. Humming loud, whilst looking over your shoulder. Gi-hun appearing into the room. His expression terrified. Without words you already knew what he meant. Since English wasn’t that great with him since he adopted you, you had learned to understand his body language.

You curled up a smile, patting your hip. Patting something hard hiding underneath your coat. – “I’ve got it.” – you reassured him. Gi-hun nodded worriedly. Still unsure to let you wander the streets of Seoul alone. Knowing very well what was out there or rather who was out there. Sighing soft you approached him. Grabbing him by both his shoulders.

“Avoid namja in a suit and briefcase. Avoid Ddakji.” – you recited. Having heard those words numerous times. Practically burned into your brain. Avoid anyone that could be the recruiter. Gi-hun exhaled relieved, moving his hand up to your cheek. Smiling with proudness at how well you listened.

“Good.” – he responded moving his arms around you for a hug. You hugged him back with a satisfied exhale. – “Gomawoyo.” – you spoke pulling away from the hug. Gi-hun chuckled loud. – “You’re Korean getting good.” – he ruffled his hand through your hair. Making you look annoyed at him for ruining your hair.

Blowing some hair out of your face, you laid it perfect once more. – “Now I must really go.” – you let out checking your watch. Hasting towards the door, waving your hand behind you. Gi-hun moved his hand up to wave back at you before you disappeared through the door.  Running down the stairs as you had a subway to catch. Something you couldn’t miss for you had a job interview to get to.

An international firm that worked with foreigners. No need to fully understand Korean as many people there spoke English. Something that came in handy for you. Your Korean wasn’t on point yet. Mostly it resolved around short sentences and words.

It has been exactly 3 years ago since Gi-hun took you in. Adopting a foreign girl as his own. It was right after the games. Perhaps he felt lonely, having lost so many people around him. He found you at the city centre trying to fight for your rights. Your parents had died in a car crash during your vacation to Korea.

Now the country wouldn’t let you leave so easily and you knew no one. Had no one till Gi-hun took you in as his own. Ever since he has been happier. With each day it grew a bit louder. Gi-hun has been helping you with your Hangul as you helped him with English. Taking care of each other. For neither wanted to be alone in this cruel world.

Rushing down the steps you went underground. Greeted by a coldness from being below ground. Following the right number to your platform. Going down another set of stairs, you arrived at the platform. A few people waiting for the subway as well. You came joining them. Observing them closely.

Observing their style of clothing. Whether or not they carried a suitcase. A man was sitting down with a suitcase between his feet. It made you swallow nervously. Staring as you couldn’t look away. The stranger turned his head to you. It made you quickly spin around. Turning away as you didn’t want him to see you.

Breathing heavier, you moved away. Creating a large distance between him and you. Heart pounding loud in your chest. Hands trembling. Feeling as if he was following you. Going after you. Perhaps to invite you to a game of Ddakji.

Your pace quickened not wanting to get caught in this. You’ve heard stories about the games and the recruiter from Gi-hun. It made you shudder and nauseous to even think about it. Eyes widening you saw that the platform was coming to an end. The black gaping tunnel staring hauntingly at you. A cold breezing through it.

Feeling a sudden hand on your shoulder made you freak out. Screaming loud, flipping your arm back to get the hand off. Squatting down to make yourself as small as possible. – “Please…” – you begged out, hands up. When you heard a loud scoff, it made you look up. A man speaking in Korean to you. Pointing with his finger and sounding clearly annoyed. You didn’t understand him as he was talking too fast.

He must have noticed the confusion on your face, making him sigh loud. – “No going over line!” – he called out gesturing at the line. It made you look down, seeing a yellow line. One you had clearly crossed. – “Oh…” – you said getting up. Apologizing to him with a bow. You stepped back over the line where it was save. Moving further to the back till your subway arrived.

It came riding in. Following the people to the doors, you dared to glance over your shoulder to the man with the suitcase. Your brows furrowing seeing him get up and greet another man excitedly. All smiley and hugging as perhaps he wasn’t the recruiter Gi-hun had warned you about.

Feeling some bumps against your shoulders, you blinked rapidly. Hopping onto the subway. Taking a seat and exhaling deep. Feeling your stress level calm down. The ride was but a few minutes till you got back off. This time you didn’t dare to look around. Simply hurrying outside without a glance. Rushing to your job interview.

Not that Gi-hun or you needed the money, but it was good for you to have an occupation. To mingle yourself into the Korean work culture. It would be good for your Korean was something Gi-hun would say. To get Koreans to accept you easier if you understood their ways of living more. With one last calming breath, you went inside.

Pushing the doors open, you exhaled relieved. It felt like an eternity that you had been inside there. Not sure if you nailed it. You felt nervous, but who knows. Walking away from the building, you pulled out your phone to text Gi-hun how it went. Eyes glued to your screen. Texting him with a mixture of English and Korean and emoji’s.

Smiling back at your screen while waiting for a reply. Going straight till something sturdy nearly knocked you off your feet. Setting you off balance as your phone dropped to the ground. A louder thud crashing to the ground. – “Joesonghamnida.” – you apologized with a bow. Eyes widening at the suitcase that had fallen down. Laying open as the money packets were clear as day.

Some money scattered around from the impact. – “Ya! Jugeullae!” – a loud man’s voice spoke. Grabbing you by your coat. Gasping loud, you looked up, staring right back at a man… wearing a suit. Shaking you roughly back and forth. – “You babo!” – he cursed out. The wind picking up some of the money as it spiralled in the air.

“I’m sorry… mianhamnida.” – you responded with a shaky breath. – “Dakcho!” – he yelled at you. Making you swallow frightened. You needn’t understand him to know what he meant. Pressing your lips together you held your words in. He continued to shout at you in a mixture of Korean and English as your eyes fell on the ground.

Seeing something red and blue from under the packets of money. Ddakji? – “I already told you I was sorry!” – you shouted back at him, shoving his hands off you. He had been grabbing your coat so tight, his knuckles were white. – “You are going to pay for this Ssibal-saekki!”– he called out giving his suitcase a good kick.

It startled you. – “Geumanhae!” – you screamed out wanting him to stop. The man breathed out a laugh. Curling his lips up to a grin. He tugged one hand in his pocket, moving two fingers at your head. Before his fingers could touch your head, you had grabbed for the gun tucked away under your coat.

Pointing it firmly at him. The man only laughed amusingly as if the gun didn’t freak him out. You tried to steady your breathing from the intense moment. – “You sure you can hold that doll?” – he asked touching the tip of your gun. Making you usher out a pant, trying to hold your ground. – “I know who the F* you are!” – you called out.

The man curled up a smirk. – “Do you now darling?” – he responded leaning in closer so that the tip of your gun was pressed against his forehead. It made you blink surprised at how crazy he was. – “Y/n!” – you suddenly heard, making you look away from the man in a suit. Eyes widening at Gi-hun running over.

“Ya!” – he shouted pointing firm at the recruiter. – “Geunyeoleul naebeolyeodwo!” – he yelled out making the recruiter quirk his eyebrow up. Glancing from Gi-hun back to you with an interesting hum. Gi-hun stormed over to you, pulling your gun down. – “Ya! You crazy?” – he called out.

Taking the gun from you. He came standing in front of you. To block the recruiter away from you. – “What is this?” – he wanted to know, hinting at the gun. You lowered your gaze, afraid to look at him. Gi-hun looked over his shoulder for the recruiter, but there was no sight of him. His suitcase gone as well.

“I asked a question!” – Gi-hun fully gave you his attention back. – “I…I’m sorry…” – you sobbed out. You didn’t mean to cry, but it was an honest reaction from the adrenaline leaving your body. It had felt so tense when you actually encountered him, you didn’t know what he was going to do.

Gi-hun exhaled deep hearing your sobs. Already calming himself down. He put the gun away, lowering himself to pick up your phone. – “I’m sorry… I just wanted to protect myself from the recruiter. You told me he was dangerous… I just… I’m sorry…” – you cried out, wiping your upcoming tears away.

Gi-hun closed his eyes for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. – “I’m sorry…” – he responded brushing his hand through your hair. Calming you down. Deep down he felt guilty. That it was his fault for scaring you so much into buying a gun behind his back.

Yet then again he needed to be warningly as the recruiter was not one to play with. – “Gaja, Y/n.” – Gi-hun said wiping some tears away. You nodded as he came to your side. Keeping one arm around you. Escorting you back to the subway to head home. Taking one last glance over your shoulder to see if he was still around. He was not.

A couple of days later you were waiting for Gi-hun to return with take-out. Home alone, you already had set the table. Now roaming around the room mindlessly with nothing else to do but wait. You paced near the window, eyes looking down as it made you do a double-take. Blinking surprised or confused.

The street below lighted up with a few streetlights. A man in a suit standing across the street. Far enough for the light for it to not touch him. His face unrecognizable in the dark. Yet it was clear he wore a suit. One hand tugged in his pocket. Having the uneasy feeling that he was watching you. Looking up to what you were doing.

A shiver went up your spine. The man’s head tilted to the side, letting you for sure know he was watching you. Getting the creeps, you immediately closed the curtains, blocking him out. Holding yourself warmly, you went to sit down. Hoping Gi-hun would return with the take-out rather sooner than later.

The next day you were making your way to the subway. Waiting for the tube to come. Looking up from the ground, you looked at the other platform in front. Eyes widening as you saw him. The recruiter. Standing still. Watching you. The moment he knew you had seen him, he curled up a smile.

A confident nod coming your way. Making you swallow hard, taking a step back. He wasn’t truly here. You were just imagining things. The recruiter tilted his head intrigued. You stumbled back, nearly knocking over another woman. You quickly apologized. Looking back at the platform in front of you. Their subway had arrived. Riding off as the platform was suddenly empty.

No sign of him. Exhaling relieved, you must have sure only dreamt. Your subway arrived as you hopped on. Heading into town. Wandering around after gone to your appointment. You walked through a park, eyes widening when you saw someone familiar sit down.

The recruiter. He curled up a smile, waving charismatically back at you. You immediately turned on your heel to take off. Panting loud to keep in motion. The ringing of your phone made you nearly let out a scream. Taking it out, you looked down. An unknown number calling you. Looking back up from your phone, you started looking around. Turning around to see who could be calling you.

Gaze suddenly stopping at him again. He removed his phone from against his ear with a smug expression. Bringing his finger to his lips. A sign for silence. The caller stopped calling at the same time he put his phone away. Making you stumbled back. This sadistic asshole was stalking you. Enjoying how much he could mess with your head.

You started running. Escaping from his presence. Looking over your shoulder, you saw that he was following you. Keeping his distance and keeping it casual, but definitely following you. A part of you wanted to stop and confront him. Yell at him why he was so obsessed with you. Another part, the loudest part simply wanted to get away from him. You ran into a café where it was crowded.

Running straight for the bathroom to hide in. Hiding in a stall, pulling your feet up to the seat with you. Phone in the ready to call Gi-hun if you needed to. You were about to press the call button when the door opened. Making you jump out of your skin. Footsteps echoing in the bathroom. You covered up your mouth to deafen out your loud breathing.

Squealing soft against your hand when a pair of shoes came in sight. Walking as you begged for them to keep moving. Yet they stopped and turned. Tips pointing forwards. Body shuddering with fear, knowing it was him. Standing in front of your stall. – “Y/n.” – he spoke, saying your name out long and almost melodic. – “You can’t hide from me.” – he spoke in a taunting voice.

It made you pant loud against your hand, hoping so hard he wouldn’t hear you. Then there were chuckles. He must have heard you for there were two gentle knocks on the door. You jumped out of your skin, a muffled yelp screaming against your hand. – “I’d like to play a game.” – he spoke, his voice luringly. – “Gi-hun wouldn’t mind.” – he added to made you shudder even further. You heard a loud sigh.

“Don’t make me break this door down.” – he went on as he hoped you would respond, yet you didn’t. You looked around for a way out but there was none. Eyes falling on the sides. It was worth a shot, but it was risky as well. You silently went down the toilet. Coming to lay low so you could crawl over to the next stall. Simply hoping the recruiter wouldn’t bend down and look underneath the stalls.

You squirmed yourself over to the next stall. Pulling your feet with you. You heard him sigh loud again. Just before a loud sound made you jump out of your skin. The door slamming against the stall as he had kicked it open. He hummed disappointed at an empty stall.

You felt like this was your cue. Shoving the door open and taking a run for it. With rushed footsteps behind you, you ran into the busy café towards the streets. Outside, you took a moment to catch your breath. Heart beating loudly in your chest. Your neck and forehead already glistering with sweat.

Running off once more, you knew he was right behind you. This time he started running as well. Enough of the taunting and teasing. He needed you now. An adrenaline shooting him up like a drug. You squealed loud when he neared. Knowing you couldn’t outrun him forever. Feeling a sudden hand wrap around your wrist like a lock. One pull made you stop, immediately shoved against the wall.

“You are a hard one to catch.” – he said pantingly. You turned your head away from him. – “Let me go!” – you called out squirming against his grip. The recruiter clicked his tongue, swaying his finger in front of you. The way he was staring at you made you swallow nervously.

You should fear him, but you couldn’t deny how extremely hot he was. If he wasn’t such a sadistic asshole, you might have felt flattered that a man was putting in so much effort in you. Specially someone as hot as him. He tilted his head to the side, staring luringly back at you. He brought his face closer to you, making you shudder out a breath. – “You are mine now.” – he whispered in your ear.

Making sure his cheek was in contact with yours. If he wasn’t pressing you against the wall, you thought your knees would give away from under you. Before you knew it he pressed a cloth against your face. Eyes widening as you tried to protest but very soon your body felt weightless. Eyes rolling back as you collapsed into his arms.

Head pounding, you gained consciousness. Blinking slowly to adjust to your surroundings. A vision coming in sight. First a blur till it settled sharper. Eyes widening with a gasp at the sight of the recruiter. – “Hello sleeping beauty.” – he said with a chuckle. Turning your head rapidly, you tried to see where you were. Feeling sudden restraints.

Gaze falling down on your hands tied up to the chair you were sitting in. It made you push against it. Trying to free your hands. The recruiter clicked his tongue, shaking his head at you. He set his hands down on yours, coming to lean in. – “You and I are going to play a game.” – he said. If the devil had a human flesh, it would be him. Shaking your head, you didn’t want to be a part of this. The recruiter pulled away, taking out a gun from his pocket.

It made you freak out, panic that he was going to shoot you in cold blood. He neared once more, shushing you. Patting his hand on your head as you couldn’t stop crying. Shaking your head to have his hand off you. Not wanting him to touch you. He opened the bullet compartment, letting them all drop to the ground. He then bend down to pick one up.

“Russian roulette, I’m sure you are familiar with it.” – he addressed shoving one bullet back in. Spinning it around before locking it back in. He placed the gun in the middle of the table. Returning then back to you. Slowly removing the rope from around your hands. He pressed a hand on your lap, spreading his fingers wide.

“You’ll play with me, wouldn’t you Y/n?” – whispering out, sending a rush through your body. His hand slowly rising up to your inner thigh. You gasped loud making him stop. Curling up a smile. The recruiter stepped away, taking a seat in front of you.

“We’ll each take a turn.” – he said taking the gun on the table. Giving it a good spin. You watched with wide eyes as it spun. Slowing down till it stopped. Gulping loud as it was pointing at you. The recruiter hummed intrigued, coming to lean back. A finger against his lips. Curious to see what you were going to do. – “Go on, take it darling.” – he ushered you.

With trembling hands, you reached for the gun. Letting it drag over the table to your side. Picking it up, it suddenly felt heavy in your grip. The recruiter showed what you had to do by pointing two fingers up against his own head with a grin. Shuddering out a breath you rose the gun up. Pressing the cold tip of it against the side of your head. Closing your eyes, you pulled the trigger. Click.

Eyes opening with a loud gasp. You immediately set the gun down, not wanting it near you again. The recruiter took the gun. Coming to lean over the table. Getting up as close to your face as possible. Wanting you to look at him. Forcing you to look at him as he brought the gun to the side of his face.

Showing you just what kind of psycho he was. One that feared nothing. His cheeks trembled when he pulled. Click. He laughed setting the gun down. Sliding it over to you. His eyes locked on you. Making you unable to look away. The recruiter was slowly pulling away as you slowly got up.

The more he moved his head away, the more you leaned in closer to keep the same distance. The recruiter came sitting down as you had leaned over the table now. Taking the gun from underneath you. Adrenaline shooting through you. Hands trembling with fear that the next one was for you.

That the next one would take you out. The recruiter quirked his eyebrow up when you copied his previous act. Wanting to show him that two could play this game. Placing the gun against your head, you stared back at him. Exhaling deep as your eyes dropped to his lips. Remaining there for a moment till they flashed back up to meet with his eyes.

Something new reflecting in his eyes. Intrigued. Curiosity? You pulled the trigger without a thought. Click. Exhaling long you dropped the gun back to the table. The recruiter tilted his head at you. You were backing away as he set his hands down on the table. Getting up from his seat. His face following your movement.

Keeping you pulled in as his eyes flashed down to your lips. It made you swallow hard. A flush creeping up to your cheeks. If he wasn’t so darn hot. He curled up a smirk as that was your undoing. Forgetting about everything and letting loose, you pressed your lips against. Realizing what you were doing, you pulled away. Breaking off the kiss to move back to your seat.

Yet two firm hands kept you in place. The recruiter grabbing you by your shirt. Tugging hard on you, you nearly knocked over the table as he pulled you close. Eyes staring hungrily at you. The table in between was a real trouble as his lips couldn’t touch yours.

He grunted loud, letting go of you. He flipped the table to the side as it crashed against the wall. You jumped out of your skin, but got grabbed once more. Stumbling forwards as you dropped to your knees. They crashed hard against the ground as he had dropped back into his seat. Cupping your cheeks firmly.

Leaning down to kiss your lips. Hard. Rough. It was sloppy and rushed with eagerness. You blindly set your hands down on his lap, pulling yourself up. He came sitting up straighter, not once breaking the kiss off. Not sure if this was stalling your death, but your body didn’t protest.

For some attraction must have been mutual otherwise he wouldn’t be devouring you so passionately. His hands lowered to your hips. Adjusting you to sit down on his lap. Your legs went around him, sitting comfortably on his lap. His lips retracted from yours for a moment. Panting loud against your lips. His eyes going up from your lips to your eyes. His hand guiding up your cheek, breathing out - “You are mine now.”

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[heyysteven]

I love, I love, I love

Summary: A bunch of Husband!salesman headcannons

Warnings: Brief mentions of death and Fluff :))

Husband!salesman who just loves to be the little spoon, he absolutely loves the feeling of resting his head on your chest as you caress his hair talking about the details of your day. He didn't mind being the big spoon either. He just loves any reason to be wrapped around you really.

Husband!salesman who could hear you talk for the rest of his hours. Tell him about the book you just finished reading, tell him about the new recipe you wanted to try, tell him about new gossip at work. He would listen patiently and ask questions wherever he got confused.

Husband!salesman who texted you every two hours. Did you reach your office safely? I’m eating the sandwich you packed! Did you have your lunch? Any updates on the new gossip? Will reach home in twenty minutes;)) Do you want anything from the grocery store? Got you donuts just in case.

Husband!salesman who would take pictures of every sunset, every animal, every flower and send them to you because they reminded him of you and how you would have taken pictures if you were with him.

Husband!salesman who would buy you a huge bouquet of flowers before every date night, conveying different messages using the language of flowers. Last time he got home one full of red tulips and sunflowers (because his passion for you ran murderously deep silly!).

Husband!salesman who planned every date night down to the minute. He would book the reservations for that cuisine you once mentioned you wanted to try. He would whistle as soon as you step out the room in your evening dress, twirl you by your hand and ask for the n’th time how he got so lucky (would definitely be disappointed if you wore something without back zips). He would always be the perfect gentleman for you; right from driving you, opening the doors, pulling your chairs, all you had to do was shut your brain and enjoy the evening.

Husband!salesman who always tried matching his tie to the color of your dress.

Husband!salesman who loved holding hands more than life itself. He would love feeling the cold metal of your wedding ring every time you locked your fingers. He would walk around with the most proud smile ever on his face, softly swinging your intertwined fingers with each step.

Husband!salesman who could never say no to you. He was born with a lot of impressive abilities and strategic skills. Murdering someone with a fork? Easy! Selling people the idea of getting rich by playing a bunch of game? A piece of cake! Saying no to his wife? What is that? Shouldn’t it be punishable by law?

Husband!salesman who couldn’t cook to save his life. He somehow ended up burning everything he put on stove, so he just stuck to cleaning instead. It was a silent agreement, you would make the breakfast and dinners and he would wash and dust while you cooked. On days he ran late, he loved being welcomed by the aroma of the dish you were making. It made him feel like that this was the reason he was alive.

Husband!salesman who still got flustered when you kiss his cheek. It had quickly become your power move. On the rare occasion where you disagreed upon something, you would simply kiss his cheek and watch him fumble with his words. It was the most adorable thing ever.

Husband!salesman who would kiss and bite your neck every chance he got. He loved the fact that he could attack your neck any time he wanted.

Husband!salesman who loved when you asked him to pick you up after work. He waited for the moment you would come running and jump to hug him tight.

Husband!salesman who always noticed every single detail. Like the time he caught a man making you uncomfortable while walking. He did exactly what the man deserved; beat him till his teeth were bloody and carved his fingers out from their socket,  for ever daring to make his wife feel unsafe.

Husband!salesman who got jealous easily. He didn’t ask for much, he just wanted every single person with conspicuous intentions towards you to just get hit by a truck on the highway (with him driving the truck preferably).

Husband!salesman who always made sure to support your hobbies! Even if you abandon them after two weeks, he’s proud of you for trying.

Husband!salesman who hated your plushies and teddy bears. He hated how much distance they created between you while sleeping. He would just throw them to the floor when you weren’t looking.

Husband!salesman who doesn’t like getting his shirt bloody because “My wife chose that for me, its rude of you to bleed on my clothes.”

Husband!salesman who says I love you like it’s the air he needs for breathing. He would find every reason to squeeze your hands thrice.

[melminli]

Dirty Cash (Money Talks)

summary - you had nothing against your colleague, but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by his innocent smile and appearance since you knew exactly what kind of corrupt person was hiding behind that costume. after all, you were wearing the same one.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. recruiter reader

word count: 1.4k

contains: talk about gambling + death and murder, sexual tension?, crack and just evil morals tbh

a/n: i watched maybe the first fifteen minutes or so of bullet train, but i thought of the two funny dudes from it while writing this bcuz their dynamic was funny af. also, i will use the actor's name in this fic since the character itself doesn't really have an official one that was mentioned in the series!

You straightened your tie with your free hand while watching your train approach from the side. The station was always pretty empty at this hour, which saved you the jostling and squeezing as you entered. After that, you sat down comfortably with a light sigh - next to the free seat beside your devilishly handsome colleague. “Are you alright? Don't tell me that you had a exhausting day?” he asked you worriedly with his typical innocent smile on his face but you've known the guy for a while now and you knew exactly how dishonest he sounded right now.

You returned his gaze for a second, uninterested, before turning it back in front of you to observe your surroundings from the window. “Exhausting day? Don't make fun of me or I'll punch you in the face,” you replied monotone and Gong Yoo didn't doubt your statement for a second - or Ji-cheol as you preferred to call him since you weren't a big fan of nicknames. “I had a great time punching those bastards in the face one by one. It feels kinda therapeutic, so I'm actually feeling pretty good right now,” you told him, talking about the subject as if you were talking about the weather.

Your colleague grunted with delight at your good news. “And I would never disagree with you on that.” he said and then just watched your figure silently for a while before speaking up again. “Since you're in such a good mood, would you be willing to play a more private game between the two of us?” he suggested, making you look at him in utter disbelief.

“A private game? With you?” you repeated, amused and laughed in his face. “Hell, no. But don't worry, I'll let you know next time I want to get totally screwed by a freaky pervert,” you added, your voice dripping with sarcasm. Which will be, never.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he asked you sweetly. As sweet as the wolf who pretended to be the mother of the seven little goats before he ate them all one by one. “It's just a tiny, harmless game. It's been so long since we've played anything together.” he complained to you earnestly as if you actually cared, and you didn't.

Yeah, you remembered the last time very clearly, even if you would much rather prefer that you didn't. You hummed. “Is that so? Huh. I mean, it could be because you almost killed me in a fucking game of tic-tac-toe the last time, but that's just a theory.” You said with a shrug, clearly still resenting him for that. However, he just rolled his eyes unaffected by your grudge. “But you didn't, right? It was the other guy who got the bullet in his head.” He replied, not even remembering his name. Not that he had to.

You just glared at him while you rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, maybe. But I'm tired of risking my life just because it makes you horny and you can jerk off to it.” You made your feelings on the matter clear. “You know that the whole living on the edge of death thing isn't really my cup of tea. At least try to understand me a bit here, too.”

I suppose she's not entirely wrong, I could give it a try. I never thought about it like that before, did I? He thought to himself in his head as he ran his tongue over the back of his teeth while he pondered. How selfish of me. “So what exactly do I have to do, to convince you?” He asked you while he already had a few ideas in mind.

You grinned. “You know that very well, don't play dumb.” You demanded as you leaned closer to him so that he could hear what you were singing softly. “Money talks, money talks - dirty cash, I want you, and dirty cash, I need you, oh ~”

He raised an eyebrow, not particularly surprised. “So you want to play for money?” He repeated it, not outright rejecting your request. “Don't you have enough of that already? You're really insatiable when it comes to cash and now you want mine, too?” he joked just to get you worked up.

Though, you didn't get the slightest bit offended by what he said. “Can you ever have enough money? Besides, I'm not forcing you to give it to me, am I?” you said with a smile, already knowing that he would agree to your terms. “But if you want me to play with you, I want eight million won for every round I win.”

She's so greedy for someone who is already more than wealthy. “Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Most people don't earn that much in a month,” he continued his act of - whatever this was - because he just loved arguing with you.

“So? We both have the same salary, I know you can afford it,” you said, holding a hand in the air as soon as you felt that he wanted to stretch this unnecessary conversation even more. “You have to decide now what you want to do or I withdraw my proposal again.”

Gong Yoo closed his mouth and started grinning even wider. “You don't even want to know what kind of game I want to play?” he asked curiously, nodding and accepting whatever you wanted as soon as he saw that you actually weren't interested. You couldn't even imagine how gladly he gave in to you at this moment. “All right, I agree with your request.”

You stood up with your briefcase in hand after your station was announced. “Good. Text me when you have something in mind, I'll be there as long as it fits timewise.”

Your colleague continued to watch you with a look on his face that used to make you more than just uncomfortable back in the day - though, it didn't even bother you in the slightest now. “You don't want to accompany me to the...office?”

You smiled while the train started to slow down. “Au revoir, Ji-cheol.” you just said your goodbye to him and stepped out of the doors. You didn't even spare the poor guy a second glance when he waved his hand at you from the window. She can be so heartless sometimes, he thought to himself, even if you were like this pretty much all the time. I'll have to think of something good to ask for in return should I win. I'm definitely not going to hold back when there's this much money at stake.

You didn't give a second thought to anything as you made your way home after a day's work like any normal citizen would do. However, your steps slowed considerably when you noticed a beggar in your field of vision and even though the rest of the crowd ignored the man and his entire existence, you couldn't help but focus your full attention on him. You looked at your watch, I've been off work for a while now. But even then, you couldn't help but notice that he was one of the people on your list to recruit for the game. He'll still be here tomorrow, but I don't mind another round of Ddakji. I love money more than anything - but I'm not doing this job for only that.

“Excuse me,” you spoke to the man with a polite smile on your face, and he only submissively avoided your gaze as he listened to you. After all, one rarely approached people like him and why would they? He held his cup of loose change out in front of him, probably expecting you to give him a small donation, but you wanted to give him so much more than that. Even if the guy didn't know it right now - you wanted to give him another chance in life, so that he wouldn't continue to be just a miserable failure.

You ignored his donation cup. “I was wondering if you might have a moment because I'd like to make you an offer,” you continued politely and the man met your gaze at that. Yeah, you were really looking forward to what was about to happen - after all, you were known for letting your opponent only win if you allowed them to.

[voxslays]

ME AND MY HUSBAND — THE SALESMAN

It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to walk into your shared home absolutely exhausted. Even more so recently, since Gi-hun had been tracking him down. “Long day, my love?” You ask, getting up to greet him. All you get is a calm sigh as he drops his ornate black breifcase on the ground with a loud crack, pulling you into an embrace. “Just a very busy day, you could say.”

“Are you hungry?” You walk over to the stove, on which a pot was almost finished cooking a French onion soup. “Dinner’s almost ready.” His hands roam over your curves appreciatively, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before he reluctantly pulls away to hang up his suit jacket.

He loosens his tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. “Starving, actually.” Gong Yoo pulls you away from the stove and presses your back into the cool marble counter. “For you.” He leans down, his breath hot as he whispers into your ear.

He presses himself closer, one hand sliding down your side to rest possessively on your hip. "Though I must admit, the smell of your cooking might be the only thing more tempting than you right now." Gong Yoo murmurs with a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling. You roll your eyes playfully.

Gong Yoo chuckles, his hand giving your hip a gentle squeeze before he steps back. He finishes unbuttoning his plain white dress shirt, pulling it off to reveal his toned chest and abs. Haphazardly throwing it on the counter—which was unusual for him, being his neat and perfectly tidy self—before turning back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” You ask innocently. Gong Yoo's gaze lingers on your face before he shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek. "Just noticing how cute you look."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before grabbing his white shirt and re-buttoning it. What a tease. Gong Yoo moves to sit at the elegant dining table, waiting for you to serve the soup. As he sits there, he can't help but appreciate your tenderness, a stark contrast to the cutthroat world he usually inhabits.

“I love you.” You say placing a kiss on his forehead as you place the bowl of soup in front of him. His eyes close briefly, taking in your sweet words. He catches your hand before you can pull away, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Love you too." He murmurs softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles.

[prettycopperpennies]

How They React When They Find Out Their One Night Stand Had A Child

Headcannon/Oneshot hybrid 😵😅

Squid Games x F!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

Description: Years later they bump into you, a past one night stand. But they were not expecting to see a toddler who looks suspiciously like them by your side. Takes place after the squid games.

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~ He would still recognize you after your one night stand a handful of years ago. He would approach you with a charming smile, but his entire expression would change when he saw a little toddler pop up at your side. He would deftly notice the similarities between him and this little child almost immediately. Especially in the dark hair and eyes.

~ Your awkwardness would also be noted by him, although he wouldn’t necessarily call it out. Instead, he’d be focused on bringing the unusual situation to light.

~ “Well… Is there anything you’d like to tell me, darling?”

~ Within minutes he would feel a responsibility to his child and the mother of that child, despite just learning of said child’s existence. He wouldn’t need to hear your explanations as to why you didn’t reach out to him. Instead, he would be focused on you and your child’s life.

~ What is your living situation? How are you supporting the both of you? Who watches your child when you go to work?

~ And he’d quickly offer solutions to the “obvious problems”. You clearly needed a bigger place to live. And you couldn’t be working full time. He could easily be supporting the two of you financially.

~ You would insist you didn’t need any help. The only thing you would be beholden to accept is the ask to allow him back into his own child’s life.

~ The first time he picks up his child for a day is also the first time he would see your cramped apartment. You could see the slight disapproval on his face, despite his efforts to veil his feelings. It wouldn’t surprise you though. Even from just that one shared night years ago you could tell he was a man of a particular taste.

~ He had curbed talking about taking care of you both, but every time you tried to pay your rent your landlord would insist it was already paid. And he was always offering to watch your child as you went to work.

~ But everytime you came back home, exhausted from a day of working, he would start up again. “Why not take me up on my offer? Wouldn’t you like to spend your days going shopping, sleeping in, and playing with our child? Hm? Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

~ If you ever caved and started letting him fund your simple lifestyle, your willingness to let him in more and more would only serve to bolster his confidence. Soon you would be having people show up who insist they were hired to clean your apartment, private chiefs who have been prepaid to cook your meals for the next month, and even a nanny. Your child would become so spoiled as he bought them intricate, expensive toys and designer clothes they would grow out of within a week.

~ You could try to insist to In-ho you didn’t need any of those things, but he would insist that you do.

~ “Darling, if you don’t have a nanny then who will watch our child while we’re away on our date?”

~ He would eventually start to ask you out nearly every weekend, and soon his gifts started to skew more romantic. Ever since he saw the two of you all those months ago he was working towards this exact outcome; to have the both of you in his life.

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~ You wouldn’t believe your toddler was fascinated with the very rapper you had hooked up with that resulted in them even existing. And that’s ignoring the fact you definitely had not allowed your toddler to listen to his music. You seriously had no idea who told them about him, but one day after daycare they suddenly had a new obsession.

~ So one day when you were walking down the street it was no surprise when your child spotted the celebrity they were slipping out of your grasp and running in their obsession’s direction. You chased after them, but of course they had an easy time slipping through the many people on the crowded street while you were struggling to make it through the throngs.

~ Thanos was busy signing autographs and taking selfies for the mass of fans surrounding him, but he looked up in interest as the group broke into a chorus of ‘aw’s and ‘so cute’s. Soon he spotted the source of the crowd’s affection. There was a toddler looking up at him with starstruck eyes. He leaned down, waving to them and jokingly asking if they were a fan. 

~ Someone in the crowd joked how similar the two looked, and a few others agreed. He asked the crowd whose child this was, but when no one responded he got a little worried.

~ “Hey kid, where’s your mom?”

~ It was as if you were summoned by the rapper, suddenly popping up in the midst of the crowd to grab your kid. You were out of breath as you picked them up and told them not to run off again. Thanos decided to speak up on his little fan’s behalf, saying “Don’t worry. I kept an eye on them.”

~ As soon as the two of you locked eyes, he finally realized who you were. And who the kid was too. Suddenly the crowd seemed a little claustrophobic for him. And, apparently, for you. You suddenly were ducking through the throngs, trying to leave the awkward situation as quickly as possible. But Thanos followed you easily, just keeping an ear out for the yells of his kid.

~ He managed to shake his fans and find you almost a block over. You were tiredly asking your kid to breathe as they threw a tantrum. He felt a wave of guilt, wondering how exhausted you must be from raising this kid on your own.

~ “Listen to your mom,” he told your kid as he approached the two of you, “You're about to run out of oxygen, kid.”

~ Your kids' eyes lit up as soon as they realized their hero was nearby. But as excited as your kid was, you were equally as nervous by the appearance of Su-bong (or “Thanos” as your kid knew him as). You eyed the tall figure anxiously, waiting to hear what he had to say to you. Somehow you were still unprepared for the very obvious question of why you didn't tell him.

~ You quickly listed off a litany of answers that would often run through your head as you tried to justify your decision. You didn’t really know each other, but even then he didn’t come off as the type of person who wanted kids. He was a celebrity, and you didn't want your kid growing up in the limelight. You didn’t want him to think you were trying to trap him into raising a kid.

~ As soon as you ran out of excuses, Su-bong spoke up and simply asked when would be a good time for him to visit his child. You were a bit taken back. You honestly had always doubted he would want anything to do with his kid, but here he was asking you when he can see them. You told him that weekend should be fine. The two of you exchanged numbers, you gave him your address, and he gave a promise to drop by.

~ Every weekend he would drop by to pick up your kid, and then drop them off by the end of the day. You would listen as they told you all the fun things they did that day. Su-bong obviously immediately spoiled them rotten.

~ One day you were surprised to have Su-bong invite you along. You hesitated at first, but as your child begged you to come you found yourself agreeing to the proposition. Soon, when Su-bong was coming by he was taking you both on some sort of adventure for the day. 

~ Eventually, there was at least one evening a week where Su-bong would come by to take you out to dinner. And he wouldn’t just come by to pick your kid up. Soon you let him stick around your house instead, and the visits expanded well past the weekends. Before either of you realized it, you had become a little family of three.

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

~ Dae-ho wouldn’t quite believe what he was seeing when there was a little toddler sitting on your hip. He had originally come up to you to say hi, of course remembering you despite it being one fleeting night years ago, but when you turned around and the child came into view he was floored.

~ For a moment he had thought you had simply gotten married and started a family of your own, but as he looked at the child he started to see how much it looked like him. He would be standing in open mouthed shock that you would have to be the one to break the silence, asking him to say something.

~ He would gather his composure after that, introducing himself with a smile and a wave to the child. Your heart would twist a little with guilt as you noticed how easily he could get them to laugh.

~ That laughter is what got you to ask if he wanted to join the two of you for ice cream. He would, of course, immediately accept. It seems the two of them were utterly fascinated by each other, which both broke and mended your heart as you watched the pair.

~ He would scoop on as many gummy bears and m&ms that your kid asked for till the toppings were piled so high they seemed to outweigh the ice cream. You went to pay for the three ice creams, but Dae-ho would quickly pull out his own wallet and cover the costs. You would insist he didn’t have to do that, but he would assure you it wasn’t a problem.

~ Dae-ho had a million questions for you, namely why you hadn’t come to him when you found out you were pregnant, but he knew he could ask those questions eventually. He was currently trying to cram years of missed out interactions into one desert filled outing.

~ You were less than surprised as the sugar high hit them both seemingly at the same time. Soon your child was dragging you both towards the little arcade in the back of the cafe. Dae-ho spent nearly ten dollars in quarters as he attempted time and again to get your child’s choice of stuffed animal out of the claw machine. You momentarily allowed yourself to get swooped up in the fun, trying and failing to beat Dae-ho on one of those strength testers.

~ You both had a shock of awkward reality when your child asked if all three of you could use the photo booth. Of course, there was one thing that would inevitably get you both into the booth: neither of you could say no to your kid.

~ As soon as Dae-ho saw the photos of the three of you crammed into one booth his heart felt as if someone was reaching into his chest and squeezing tight. His child sitting between the two of you with an ice cream stained face and laughing, or the photo of him pulling a face while you and your child laughed, or the smile of his child that looked nearly identical to his own: every tiny photo confirmed one thing for him.

~ He wanted nothing more than to have you both be in his life from this moment onward.

~ You spent longer in the ice cream cafe than you had meant to, and soon the sun was beginning to set and your kid needed to go home to sleep. Dae-ho carried them out to your car, and once again you felt a pang as you noticed how natural all this was for him.

~ When you suggested the three of you hang out again this weekend, he immediately agreed. You thought that was the end of the conversation, but after Dae-ho settled the toddler into their booster he was turning back to you.

~ “So… why didn’t you tell me?”

~ You explained how you didn’t want to pressure him into anything, how you were nervous how he’d react, and after a few years you decided it had been too long. He listened to your explanations, and apologies, with much appreciated patience. You knew it wasn’t a perfect reason, but it was enough for him for now.

~ After that, he was dropping by nearly four or five times a week, and soon enough he was basically a mainstay at your place. The three of you seemed to fall into a new domestic situation with such ease that when Dae-ho asked you out it wasn’t hard to say yes. You seemed to fit perfectly into each other's lives.

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~ Myung-gi had spotted you, and your toddler, at the same bookstore he was currently inhabiting. It would take him a moment to realize where he recognized you from, but as soon as he realized it was from a one night stand he re-evaluated the child holding your hand.

~ After some quick math in his head he would realize he could very easily be the father of this child. But why wouldn’t you tell him? At least, he thought, you would contact him for child support. So obviously, it couldn’t be his kid, right?

~ But there was no denying it. The kid was a spitting image of him. As the reality dawned on him, he found his feet unable to move. It was like he was glued to the carpet as shock set in. He was so in his own head he didn’t notice the toddler approaching him.

~ He looked down when he felt a small hand tug on the edge of his shirt. Myung-gi’s mouth went dry as he looked face to face with his own kid. They were looking back with tear soaked cheeks, asking for help. They had somehow lost track of their mom and needed someone to help find her.

~ “Oh… Uh, sure kid.”

~ Myung-gi paused for a moment as the kid reached a pudgy hand up, but he eventually took it in his own. He glanced in the direction he had last seen you, but you were gone. He had the kid walk him back to where they could remember you were last, but of course you weren’t there either.

~ He stifled a sigh as his kid started to cry again, sniffling every few seconds. “It’s alright, we’ll find your mom.” But soon they started to bawl, unable to quell the worry the longer it took. Myung-gi reached down, picking them up with ease. He patted their back awkwardly, not sure at all how to handle this situation, but somehow it worked.

~ He felt some sort of unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness as the child calmed in his arms. He decided to head to the cashier and see if they could make an announcement over the intercom. As he made his way over he would every so often assure the toddler in his arms everything would turn out just fine.

~ As he headed to the front he spotted you already talking with a manager. He could see you were clearly very worried. As soon as he pointed you out your child would immediately start calling for you. The relief flooding your face as you spotted your kid was evident to everyone around you. You rushed over and Myung-gi handed his child over with an unexpected pang of pain. He watched as you wiped away your child’s tears before holding them in a tight hug.

~ “I cannot thank you enough. Thank you so-”

~ As you turned to thank the helpful stranger you would come face to face with the last person you were expecting to see at that moment. Myung-gi cocked an eyebrow at your shocked expression, a move that informed you he knew exactly who’s child that was.

~ “I think we need to talk.”

The Recruiter

~ He spotted you, holding the hands of a child, while he was in the middle of “work”. He normally would go on with his job, but he didn’t want to risk you noticing as he slapped a stranger straight across the face. Even though it was a one night stand you had managed to make quite the impact on him.  Instead, he hurriedly ended the unfinished transaction as the child started to notice the game being played.

~ Your child would be tugging at your hand, and once you glanced in the direction they pointed to you saw the person you least expected to. He waved in your direction, but instead of returning the gesture you picked up your child and hurried up the subway steps.

~ He noticed your odd reaction to seeing him. It made him reevaluate the situation. As he looked closer at the two of you, he started to notice the similarities between him and the child who was currently looking at him over your shoulder as you rushed up the stairs.

~ He would quickly follow you, not letting you get far before he stepped in front of you. He glanced between you and the child, openly putting two and two together. You would feel a tinge of guilt as he finally kept his eyes on you. He waited silently for you to speak up.

~ His tactic would inevitably work, and soon you’d be trying to explain away why you hadn’t gone to find him and tell him. He would notice you trying to keep everything generalized, and would once again glance in the direction of the child in your arms. With an annoyed sigh he would tell you that the two of you could talk about this later. Then he would go on his way and let the two of you go on yours.

~ But later you would receive a text from your old one night stand. “Are you free to talk yet?”. You would stare at the text, debating whether or not to answer. But eventually the guilt would take over and you would respond with a yes.

~ Moments later you would be getting a phone call. You were prepared to explain yourself once more, but instead he wanted to discuss when he could start to see his kid. You were a little surprised. You really weren’t sure if he would be interested or not.

~ Within a few days he was dropping by as your “friend” who was going to hang out for a bit and get to know your child. You tried to give them some space, but you couldn’t stop peaking your head in to see how it was going. You couldn't believe just how similar they looked.

~ Within moments he was feeling a swelling need to protect this little bundle of joy in front of him. As they bobbed around the room, showing him every book and toy in their possession he could feel himself getting more and more attached. Those few hours flew by, and he was already asking you when he could come by again.

~ After a few weeks you got the usual text, expecting it to be asking when he could come see his child. But instead it was asking when you would be free. Between coming by to pick you up for a date or dropping in to visit your kid, he was around quite a bit. Once he started spending nights there he never really left, and without noticing it the three of you became a family.

[mojavebluez]

Russian roulette - the salesman x fem!reader (18)

Chapter 1

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

summary - he’d been following you for a while. When you finally find the courage to approach him, you wake up hours later in his apartment, tied up and completely at his mercy. He has one offer: a game of Russian roulette.

tags - gun play, age gap, kidnapping, bdsm, sub!reader, dom!salesman, sadomasochism, fingering, non-con, praise, degradation, forced insertion, no lube

a/n - I’m slightly ashamed but also not. There’s a bit of backstory so sorry to all you freaks that like skipping straight to the action.. I’ll do a part 2 if you guys enjoy it!!

Series masterlist

4.7k words

———————————————————————

You’d seen him before. Many times. This past month you’d noticed nearly 20 encounters. The first was on the subway a while back, when you had looked up to see him staring down at you with blank, empty eyes. An instant chill was sent down your spine. But he wasn’t like the usual subway perverts: he was put-together, well dressed and very, very handsome. He had an air of assurance about him and a strange sort of dominance that forced you to stare down at your feet - just to avoid meeting his eyes.

You’d barely given him another thought until, the next day, you saw him again. This time it was in a cafe. You had felt someone’s eyes on you and glanced around until you landed on him. He was sat across the room, a lonely white teacup in front of him. He had that same soulless look in his eyes, this time paired with a faint smile. It chilled you again. Was he following you? Or was it just coincidence?

It happened again. And again. Across the street, him standing there, or in supermarket aisles, or on subway cars. Always on subway cars. You debated approaching him, asking him why he was following you around. But sometimes, late at night, you would stare at the ceiling and think about him. His perfectly symmetrical features, crisp, laundered suits - you’d gotten lucky in the stalker lottery, that was for sure. The idea was ridiculous, anyway, people like you didn’t get stalkers. You were utterly normal, boring, even. Things like that only happened in movies.

It had finally come to a head when you went out one night with a couple friends. It was the end of the first semester, so you had all decided to go out and celebrate. Turns out, you may have celebrated too hard. You were somewhere between five and ten drinks (who was counting anyway?) when you caught sight of him across the bar. You slide off your stool, the faint protests of your friends drowned out by the thudding club music. You sway on your feet slightly as you approach him, which seemed to amuse him, a smirk playing on his lips.

Once you reach him he pats the stool in front of him with a wide palm. His eyes never leave yours. The drink in your system seems to swirl the features on his face slightly, but it was definitely him. He doesn’t have a glass beside him, but his briefcase is laid on the bar, its glossy surface reflecting the multicoloured club lights.

“I was waiting for you,” he says. His voice is thick and dark. You’d never heard it before. You had imagined what it sounded like, how he might’ve said your name. Or what it would be like if he whispered closely into your ear.

“Who- who are you?” You say clumsily, surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was a different you. Confident. Abrupt.

“You’ll know soon enough,” he replies, smiling faintly. His hand, very large and covered in spidering veins, is spread on his thigh. It’s an inviting gesture. You instinctively lean into him.

“I’ve seen you before,” you say, tilting your head, “on the subway. And in the coffee shop.”

“Correct,” he smirks, altering the symmetry of his features. But the smile never reaches his eyes.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask. You press a hand against the bar to steady yourself. Everything in the room, aside from him, mixes and bleeds into incoherent colours.

“You’re very drunk,” he states, the smile never leaving his face, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I’m fine,” you wave a floppy hand at his face, but he abruptly catches your wrist in the air, his fingers like a vice. Your breath is caught in your throat at the pressure of his grip, draining all the blood until his fingers leave thick white marks on your skin.

“What are you-“

“Just relax,” he says, his voice a smooth purr in your ears, “I’m going to order us a drink.”

He lowers your hand, never letting go, and calls the bartender over. You can’t quite hear what he orders, but he holds up two fingers before turning back to you. Your head swims with alarm bells. The pain that floods your arm, mixed with the cold look in his eyes and your clear lack of personal autonomy - you’re very close to fight or flight altogether. He can see this. His mouth presses into a tight line and his grip on you, somehow, becomes even more firm.

“Please,” he says, but there is no pleading in his voice, “try to calm down.”

“Let go of me,” you squirm, pulling at his hand in an attempt to free yourself from his hold. He doesn’t even shift. If it came to it, you would be entirely at his mercy once he got his hands on you. The thought makes you freeze in your chair.

“That’s it. Much better. You’re a fast learner,” he loosens his hand and you sigh in relief.

The drinks arrive and he slides one over to you. His glass sits, untouched, as he urges you to take a sip of yours. You aren’t sure why, but something in his eyes makes you obey. Maybe it’s the satisfaction once you do - it fills you with a strange sort of feeling. You quite like pleasing him.

A few moments later, you try to stand up. “I need the bathroom.”

“Hm,” he says, watching you with uncertainty, “I’m not sure. You don’t look very well.”

“Exactly,” you say, stepping away. The floor seems to rise and fall like a wave beneath your feet. You stumble, but he catches you, his fingers spread across your abdomen.

“Let me help you,” he suggests, as though you could even object.

He leads you through the weaving crowds, all dancing and throwing their bodies around like rag dolls. You stare up at him, the curve of his features haloed by the spotlights. He’d picked up his suit case in the process of helping you, and it swung at his side, his other arm looped around your waist. Even in heels he towers over you. When the cold air hits your face, you realise he is not, in fact, leading you to the bathroom. You open your mouth to say something, but find that the words die in your throat. Your face feels entirely numb and your feet begin to drag behind you. He makes a small noise of frustration as he lifts you up, hooking a hand beneath your arm to hold you higher off the ground.

Your vision grows blurrier once he opens a car door and sets you down inside, sliding in beside you. Then, you finally black out.

-

“Ah, there you are.” He says, a towering shadow standing before you. “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

You blink your eyes open. Instantly, your head begins to pound and you groan at the pain. Your neck falls back against something solid, and you slowly glance around to find that your limbs are bound to some sort of chair. Your wrists are pulled behind your back as well as your feet, tied to either leg with thick cord. Memories of earlier that night fly past your eyes in an instant as you struggle against the binding. But the more you pull, the more it hurts, and he seems to enjoy this fact. You squint up at him to see his face a mask of utter satisfaction, clearly proud of his handiwork.

His empty, dead eyes, black despite the vibrancy of the lighting. His thick, rough fingers curled around your wrist. You taking a deep swig of whatever drink he had gotten you. And the sound of a car door slamming. Then nothing. He’d kidnapped you. He’d spiked your drink and fucking kidnapped you and now you were going to die here, in this dark apartment and left for dead. You were just another one of those sad murdered girls that die and end up on a podcast a decade later.

“Don’t squirm,” he says, moving to stand before you. You crane your neck to look up at him. Half of his face is shrouded in darkness, the other glowing from the dim red lighting of his apartment. Atmospheric.

“What the-“ you try to get a sense of your surroundings, but the after effects of the alcohol and whatever he had drugged you with made it difficult. Everything feels hazy and undefined. Aside from him. His figure is perfectly distinguishable. You recognise his same suit from earlier: jet black, and he must have fixed his hair, too.

“You’re quite small,” he says, watching you, amused, “I probably gave you too much. Took you a long while to wake up.”

You try to scream. Your voice wavers, a pathetic noise escaping. He chuckles darkly at your weak attempt.

“There’s really no point. No one can hear you.” His black eyes glitter as he says it. God. You’ve been kidnapped by a fucking sadist.

You try again but exhaustion overwhelms you. Your eyes fall to the window, which spans from floor to ceiling. The nighttime Seoul skyline stretches across - you’re in a high rise, presumably a penthouse. Is it his apartment? The air feels hot and close, even more so when you meet his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he says. Your head whips around at the statement. A game?He doesn’t even have the mercy to make it quick.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he lifts his briefcase onto the low table before you, then clicks the latches and opens it slowly, as though savouring the moment. His every movement makes your skin prickle with uncertainty - everything about him is unpredictable. Bile rises in your throat once you see what sits inside the case. A gun.

“Russian roulette,” he takes it out carefully with two hands, the same way you would hold a precious gemstone. The steel barrel glints in the light like a winking eye.

“Oh god,” you whisper beneath your breath.

“You have heard of it. Good,” he smiles at you emptily, curling his fingers around the grip.

“Of course I have,” you say quietly.

“Then you know the rules,” he moves to sit in a chair opposite you, neatly two feet away. The table separates you, but it is low enough that he’s able to get a full view of you. His eyes rake you from head to toe, landing on the hem of your dress. It rides up slightly, but you’re unable to fix it with your hands bound. You try your best to squeeze your legs together and hide yourself.

He turns the case and lifts out a single bullet, slotting it into the barrel. Your gut twists with fear as he spins the barrel and clicks it in with a flourish that is sickeningly attractive. Everything about him is a juxtaposition. His clean suits that fit his frame perfectly, yet are eerily formal for every occasion. His hollow eyes that chill your bones but also draw you in with an odd curiosity you can’t resist. Every aspect of him leaves you wanting more. But you can’t think this way about him, can you? Not when he is so clearly dying to hurt you.

He leans forward, the gun hanging from his hand. “Your odds of survival are five in six. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to- are you some sort of serial killer?” You gasp helplessly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m a man of business.”

“And your business is murder?” You add sarcastically, watching his face closely.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re different. Most people would be begging for their life by now.”

“I’m obviously going to die here. What’s the point in begging?” The words are empty as you say them. You’d already accepted your fate by this point.

His eyes glitter. “Maybe you should beg.”

You press your lips together. The prospect is tempting. “Did you still kill those other people? Even though they begged?”

“Now, now,” he twists the gun, watching his own reflection in the metal, “that would spoil the surprise.”

You don’t respond.

“Besides,” his teeth flash as he speaks, perfectly straight, “as I said, five in six. It’s more of a chance than I gave the ‘others’.”

The high odds must mean he’s holding out for you beg. For him. For your life. You watch, sickened, as he sets the gun on the table and places a large hand over it. “Now to decide who goes first.”

Your throat tightens when he grips the barrel and spins the gun on the table like a children’s toy. The sound of the metal on the glass surface sends needles over your skin. The sound of death being delivered. Round and round. Round and round. He watches it with a terrifying anticipation. The corners of his mouth curl upward, the smile finally reaching his eyes, which sparkle manically, following the gun’s movement. It slows to a halt. And It’s facing you.

You slump in your chair. He slowly looks up at you, unmistakably eager to see you squirm. But you don’t. You watch him with a steely gaze as he picks it up and points the barrel to your forehead.

“You first,” his voice sounds different. Finally, the reality of his nature seeps through. This is the real him.

“Just do it,” you mumbled, looking at your feet.

He leans towards you across the table. You glance up to watch the movement, then freeze. Utter terror jolts through you. Then something else. This is a different man.

“Are you scared?” He says so quietly you almost don’t hear it. He leans closer. And closer. The gun forms a barrier between the two of you, and you watch it steadily until it is barely millimetres from your forehead.

“I said,” you wince as you feel the heat of his breath on your face, “are you scared?”

The truth? Or not? “Yes,” you whisper, meeting his eyes. Something you can only describe as lust shines in them. God.

“You’re crying,” he says breathily. You flinch as he moves the tip of the gun, flicking away a tear on your cheekbone with it. You shiver when the cold metal meets your skin.

“Are you going to do it, or what?” You say distantly.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” his voice is almost a growl.

You debate satisfying his clear desire. Would he be merciful if you did? “Scared.” You whisper breathlessly.

He nods once. “Carry on.”

“I don’t-“

“Scared of me? Or this,” he traces the muzzle of the gun across your face, making you twitch with every movement. Tears begin to fall, thicker this time, and you fight back sobs that threaten to escape.

“Of you,” you say breathlessly. He exhales at the words, his mouth opening slightly.

“Really?” His eyes shimmer, then he pauses, bringing the gun to the center of your forehead once again.

You hold your breath, anticipating his finger pulling the trigger. Would you feel anything if it fired? He presses it down as slowly as possible, then - click. Nothing. You collapse back into your chair, chest heaving with the release of your bated breath. He leans back again, clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his chair. You don’t watch him, but you hear the click of the chamber and know that it’s his turn.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” he says it with a cat-like smile, though you know the words hold no sympathy for you. He brings the gun to the side of his temple, his eyes never leaving yours. A strand of hair has escaped and hangs over his terrifyingly handsome features. A part of you wants to play into this fantasy - squirm around and scream for him. That part almost takes over when you see his mouth curve into a smirk as he presses the trigger down. And nothing. His self-assurance is painfully appealing.

“This is going well, isn’t it?” He stands up this time, stepping around the table and towards you.

“Please,” you can’t help the tears from falling this time, “no more, I’ll do anything. Anything.”

He tilts his head, pouting at you. “Now you decide to beg? It’s too late for that I’m afraid, sweetheart.”

The muzzle grazes the edge of your lips, cool but strangely relieving. At least it isn’t his lips. Kissing him would feel like sealing your fate.

Your eyes widen when you realise. “But you didn’t spin the barrel!”

He doesn’t stir at your realisation. “Makes the game more interesting, don’t you think?”

You tug against the cable at your wrists, not even caring about the pain of it scraping your skin. You feel small and pitiable beneath him, but you still struggle in your seat despite the futility. He just watches you squirm, the gun dangling from his hand, not even a smile on his face. You strain your voice to scream, and this time the noise carries. He tilts his head at you.

“Scream like that again and I might have to cover your mouth,” he bends down to be level with your eyes.

You open your mouth again to scream, but he grabs your chin, forcing it to stay open. You gasp at the forcefulness of his grip, and he parts his own lips. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly as the gun enters your line of sight. Teasingly, he brings it closer to your face, then slips it into your mouth. Your breath catches at how cold it feels against your tongue.

“Hmm,” he watches you curl the tip of your tongue over the muzzle, his fingers pressing tighter against your skin.

Something compels you to move, so you do. You lean forward, taking it deeper into your mouth until you feel the muzzle graze the back of your throat. You fight the urge to choke. A single tear falls from your eye, left over from your last outburst, and lands on his hand. His smile suddenly falls and something dark descends over him. He presses the trigger with no warning.

You cry out and he pulls the gun swiftly from your mouth, a string of saliva still connected. He examines the dampness that your mouth has left on the steel and inhales deeply, as if composing himself.

“That’s not fair,” you gasp, your hair falling around you as you lean forward.

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. He bends down to meet your eyes as he pulls your hair harder, making you yelp. “What isn’t fair, hm?” He prompts you to speak, though your heart beats so erratically you aren’t sure you can respond.

“Don’t feel like talking? That’s alright,” he brings the gun back into your eye line, but you squeeze your eyes shut, rejecting him.

He makes a frustrated noise in his throat. Then, suddenly, he forces you back against your chair, taking a hold of your throat. You choke as he presses tighter against your windpipe, forcing the air out of you until tears stream from your eyes. He takes the tears as an indication to loosen his grip, and you take in lungfuls of air when he does. He never lets go, though, keeping you flat against the chair and completely in control.

Your chest is open for him as he traces the muzzle from your neck to collarbone, ghosting over the protruding bones. You whimper slightly as he moves it even lower, the icy metal a shock against the curve of your breast. The dress you decided to wear earlier feels like a foolish decision now. The thin material is the only barrier that holds your dignity in place.

You are acutely aware of his movements. He watches the muzzle slide against your skin, making a noise almost like a purr when you react. He swallows when it runs over the bump of your nipple and you arch your back in response.

“You seemed so innocent back in that bar,” he says huskily, eyes flicking up to watch you. He continues running the gun over your nipple, the movements slow and torturous. “But you’re not anymore, are you?”

You don’t respond, too focused on the things that he is doing to you. This is his torture. He makes it so you can barely find the words to speak, then punishes you when you don’t.

He draws a cool, straight line to the flat of your lower stomach, then toward the hem of your dress. He lifts it ever so slightly with the tip of the muzzle and looks up at you. “If you’re going to beg, do it now.” The words are commanding, barely a suggestion. You watch as he pulls off his blazer, revealing his shirt which strains over his chest. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, and you catch sight of roping veins bulging from his skin. Your skin prickles with anticipation.

“Please,” you gasp, barely registering the words, “please don’t. Please. I’m begging you. I’m begging.”

You nearly scream when he bends down and pulls your legs open with one hand. You struggle more against your bindings, rejecting his advances. He doesn’t stop. You whimper as he rips your underwear down to your ankles. Then, abruptly, he forces the gun inside you. You let out a strangled noise.

“Look at that,” he says, voice deeply amused, “already wet. Who would’ve guessed you were such a whore?”

You cry out at the feeling of the gun stretching you uncomfortably wide. He tuts arrogantly, pushing it in deeper until you arch against it. Then, he pulls it out and stands up, letting go of your throat. You gasp with relief, chest heaving, and he examines the gun in the low light. Your arousal paints it, making the metal glisten.

He moves closer to you, the plane of his hips obstructing your vision. A clear boner strains against the fabric of his trousers. You collapse in your chair hopelessly, the shock of the gun entering you still present in your mind. He grabs your jaw again, pulling your mouth open.

“Taste it,” his voice is empty. Lust clouds his eyes, a dark mist. More hair has escaped, hanging over his forehead, and sweat glistens on his brow. His dress shirt has been disturbed in all his vigorous movement. His tie lays off centre and slightly looser than before.

Obediently, you stick out your tongue, running it over the barrel. But you barely taste anything. The room spins around you like a carousel and your head feels light. It must be the adrenaline.

“Good girl,” his voice is deep and breathy. His chin inclines as he observes your tongue taking in your own arousal.

You hardly register it as he bends back down to one knee. Then, all at once, your senses return to you. He ghosts the gun over the hard bump of your clit, forcing a strangled noise to escape from your throat.

“There you are,” he hums, satisfied.

You can feel the wetness practically dripping out of you. He slips his index finger inside, almost experimentally, curling his finger. It enters too easily, so he pushes in his middle finger, and you gasp at the intrusion. He’s stretching you wider than the gun now - and he knows it. You’re still aware of the gun pressed against your clit, a cold, hard pressure that raises goosebumps on your skin.

Floaters dance past your vision. You let your neck fall back over the chair, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling. Your heart hammers harder with every pull of his fingers. You hear him make small satisfied hums at the wet sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and uncurling. You feel heat pool in your stomach. You’re close, but he shows no mercy, still fingering you with ever-mounting speed. Then, he pulls out his fingers once more and swiftly replaces them with the gun.

“We’re two shots down,” he says feverishly, “what if I pulled the trigger now?”

He looks up at you to watch your expression. You open your mouth to beg for your life, but find that the words die in your mouth. He picks up speed, the gun reaching a spot inside you that makes your toes curl. The possibility that he could easily kill you now seems to make your orgasm arrive even more intensely. You hear him grunt as he pulses in and out, faster, faster-

You collapse in your chair. The release is gratifying, yet humbling. The reality of your situation dawns on you as the pressure leaves your gut, and he pulls the gun out. He stands to his full height, the shadow of his figure being cast over you. His boner strains even harder against his trousers, a clear outline now. He sets the gun on the table behind him and adjusts himself, clearing his throat and wiping his hands on his thighs.

You aren’t sure if you have an ounce of self preservation left inside you. He knows this, and revels in it. The room stops spinning, coming to a still and finally grounding you. The light reveals his whole face as he leans over you and tucks the hair behind your ears with both hands. The gesture is almost too affectionate that it feels pretend. You aren’t sure that he is capable of aftercare.

“Well done,” he says, though you don’t feel like you’ve done a good job at all. He used you, and somehow, you let him.

You can’t find any words to reply with. He leans closer, eyes on your lips, his mouth parted slightly. His breath warms your face. You suck in air as he grazes two fingers over the wetness between your legs in a final gesture. He slowly pulls your underwear back over you in a strangely gentlemanly manner. You frantically search his face as the realisation that you didn’t actually die descends over you. He let you live. Why?

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he chuckles, lips still millimetres from yours. He presses his middle and ring finger to your mouth and you taste the saltiness of his skin. Then he pulls away. Strangely, you lean forward, wanting more of him. But he doesn’t fulfill your wish. He turns his back to you and leans over the case, which is still open on the table. You crane your neck to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s doing but his back is too wide for you to see.

Then he turns to you, his previous empty smile back on his face. The pleasure you just felt is quickly replaced by fear. He stands over you once again and slips a square of card inside your dress and into the cup of your bra. You make a curious noise, attempting to move your arm and then stopping when you remember that you’re still bound to the chair. Finally, he makes an apologetic face, before slipping the needle into your skin.

Oh.

—

You wake up in your bedroom, curled up on your bed wearing last night’s clothes. The strap of your dress hangs off your shoulder, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. You shiver. Was it really all a dream? How much did you drink last night? You have no memory of coming back to your flat. No memory of falling asleep. Only the memory of him - his perfect face, glistening with sweat and his fingers wet with your arousal. You feel sickened with yourself that you could conjure up such a dream.

Then, you sit up. Something falls from the front of your dress and flutters onto the bedding. A square of brown card. You pick it up, squinting closely to examine it. A number, written in thick black type. Your heart skips. It couldn’t have been a dream. It couldn’t. You remembered him slipping a piece of card into your bra. Where else would you have gotten this from?

Something compels you to pick up your phone. Something wrong. Something not like yourself at all. That night, what he did to you, flipped a switch inside you. That same part of you types in the number. Presses dial. Waits to hear it ring. Once. Twice.

“Hello?” You say, too eagerly. The line is silent.

Then, a voice. Painfully familiar. He pauses, then speaks: “This Friday. Ten. Be ready.”

He hangs up. You were ready before he picked up the phone.

[kettlefire]

Justice League & The Observants

The first time The Observants appeared before the Justice League, they were met with resistance. The JL was more than apprehensive when it came to working with the beings.

A new side of their world was exposed to them. Since the day those things showed up at the watchtower, everywhere the JL turned, there was a new spooky thing to learn about.

The strange beings didn't say much. Appearing in the room through a swirling portal, took a look at the heroes and gave them a mission.

A mission. Like suddenly the Justice League works for them. Something that rubbed all the heroes the wrong way.

Yet, they had to take it. They couldn't let a town get absolutely destroyed and leveled just because they disliked the creatures that told them about it.

It kept happening.

Batman pulls out all the stops to learn more about these so called "Observants". Everything he could find.

It takes him down a rabbit hole. Finding out more and more about the world those beings came from. The Zone.

No one could really complain. The visits from the Observants were always short and to the point. A new problem has arise in the time line and they needed to fix it.

That was until the first time it wasn't one of those things stepping out of the portal.

This time it was a kid. Or something that looked like a kid, and this kid looked pissed.

He demands to know everything that the Observants had asked the league to do. Demands to be filled in.

The anger isn't directed at the JL. No, no. It's directed at the Observants. It seems the league aren't the only ones that despise those all-seeing beings.

He's a king. The kid is a King.

Not what anyone had expected, and it seemed the complication only grew more. The king, Phantom, informs them not to trust the Observants.

The Justice League takes it all in surprising strides. Confirms that they have done nothing wrong, and they haven't. It was simply that the Observants cared more of their own opinions than the betterment of the world.

However, it gets a little harder to keep a straight face when they are introduced to the God of Time.

Made even worse when the God, Clockwork, is a child. If they thought Phantom was a kid, this was a baby.

Except in almost a blink of an eye, Clockwork was an old man.

Things just kept getting more complicating and intriguing.

Before the Justice League knows it. They are essentially thrusted into the Zone's own problems. An inner war was brewing, and Phantom wanted to do everything he could to stop it.

[luvxkdrama]

— obsession

pairing : salesman x reader

warnings : mentions of blood, violence, guns, stalking, manipulation

word count : 6.7 k

summary : “You can run all you want,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “But you’ll always end up right where I want you.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Because you’re mine, Y/N. And I always take care of what’s mine.”

[obsession] /əbˈsɛʃn/ : an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind

—

Life has a special way of pulling a full 180° in the blink of an eye—a truth few dare to believe, yet most dismiss without a second thought.

You weren't one of those who believed in the unpredictable twists of life, as you didn’t consider yourself 'special' enough like the protagonists in movies. Your world revolved around university, and your side jobs after class, providing you with the only sense of reality and moments of social interaction. You were always sort of a loner, as people tended to drift in and out of your life with little permanence.

In your early teenage years, this left a deep impact, especially as you watched other girls surrounded by close friends and romantic relationships, while you spent most of your time alone. It weighed heavily on you for a long time, but over the years, you grew to understand that you didn’t need anyone to be happy—at least, not in the way you once thought. You learned to simply keep moving forward with life.

Winter was your favourite season as you found the streets covered in snow, only lightened by the old street lamps, oddly comforting and peaceful. For this exact reason, late classes never bothered, as your walk home with music in your ears while you observed the snow slowly falling from the sky, felt like a reward.

While everyone was still busy talking after class, you didn't waste a second before picking up your things from your desk and leaving the building, the cold yet fresh air hitting you in the face. After quickly adjusting your bag, you put in your earphones in and tightened your scarf before heading home.

It was the most carefree moment of your day, just you and your music.

Or at least, that's how it used to be.

You would feel it whenever you’re walking down the familiar path, the air would suddenly start to feel colder and you’d instinctively quicken your pace. The sensation was back each evening—an eerie feeling crawling up your spine, as if someone unseen was watching your every step since you stepped outside university to the very last step in front of your house.

It began weeks ago but with time you simply convinced yourself you were paranoid especially since each time you glanced over your shoulder, you were met with an empty street. Though, the uneasy shiver constintently lingered in your head.

You sighed at the new sign in front of you on the pavement. The town’s mayor suddenly had the magnificent idea to reconstruct the street's surfaces, which resulted in blocked streets. You turned to your side and eyed the little, barely lightened alleyway in the corner, which seemed like the only fast option for you to get home.

After concluding that the distance through the alleyway should only take you approximately seven minutes, you took a deep breath and left the main street.

Your eyes were glued to the time on your phone which indicated that three minutes has already passed. The relief instantly turned into fear when a sudden sound of footsteps echoed through the alleyway.

At first, you convinced yourself it was your paranoia once again however your blood ran cold when you heard some low chatters as well.

Without a second to loose, you broke into a sprint, each one of your instincts screaming to get away. To your misfortune, the footsteps behind you quickened almost immediately.

Before you could make it to the next turn, you felt someone harshly pull you back, the strength sending you flying on the hard and cold floor. You winced at the sudden pain across your wrist. After a few seconds, you finally looked up just to be face to face with two older men, staring down at you with the creepiest grin you’ve ever seen.

“We knew this alleyway would come in handy someday.” One of them sneered, the other one nodding along.

“That’s a whole jackpot, man.” The smaller one spoke up, eyeing you up and down.

You sat slumped against the wall, your breath uneven. The two men stood a few feet away, their conversation hushed, but the clinking of a glass bottle and the rustling of a sheet drew your attention. Your eyes darted to the white cloth in the man’s hand, already soaked with a liquid that darkened its edges. Your pulse quickened. Your gaze flicked to your left, catching the glint of an empty beer bottle half-hidden in the shadows.

In one desperate motion, you pushed yourself up and lunged for the bottle. The sudden movement startled them, but only for a second. You grabbed the bottle, your fingers trembling as you smashed it against the brick wall. Glass shards rained around you, one nicking your palm, but you barely felt the sting.

You spun to face them, holding the improvised weapon out, your knuckles white, your breathing ragged.

The two men froze for a beat, their expressions unreadable. Then one of them smirked, slow and deliberate, as though your act of defiance was nothing more than an amusing spectacle. The other stepped forward slightly, tilting his head, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes.

"Bold," the first man said, his voice like gravel. "But you won’t use it."

Your grip tightened, the jagged glass shaking in your hand. You raised it higher, her eyes blazing. “Try me.”

Blood dripped down your wrist now, pooling at your fingertips. The pain should have registered, but it didn’t. All you could feel was the rush of adrenaline and the desperate need to survive.

The second man chuckled, low and humorless. "You’re going to hurt yourself more than us with that thing." He took another step, as though testing your resolve.

“I said don’t come any closer!” You barked, your voice rising to a frantic pitch. Your vision blurred at the edges, panic threatening to consume you, but you forced herself to stand your ground.

Then, a slow, deliberate sound cut through the tension.

A clap.

Your body stiffened, and you instinctively glanced over your shoulder, though you didn’t dare take her eyes completely off the two men. From the shadows at the far end of the alley came the silhouette of another figure. The dim light barely outlined his form, but there was something about the confident way he moved that made the air feel heavier.

The men froze, their smugness faltering.

The figure stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking softly against the concrete. As he passed into the cone of light from a flickering streetlamp, you saw him fully: tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that fit him like it cost more than your rent.

In one hand, he carried a sleek leather briefcase, but it wasn’t his appearance that sent a chill down your spine—it was the weight of his gaze. He looked at you first, his eyes briefly flicking down to the blood dripping from your hand. Something sharp and dangerous flashed across his expression.

Then his gaze shifted to the two men. His eyes hardened, turning into something deadly.

"You know," he said, his voice low and smooth, yet carrying an undercurrent of menace, "I was not going to let you go easily but,” He took another step forward, unhurried, the lamplight catching the faintest sheen of his cufflinks. “the fact you wasted even a drop of her blood, that, gentlemen, is unforgivable and only leads me to believe you need to pay the highest price for it.” He tilted his head, his jaw tightening.

The smirk on one of the men’s faces disappeared entirely. "Look, we didn’t—"

"Don’t." The man’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He placed his briefcase down on the ground with a deliberate click, straightening as he slid his hands into his pockets. "Save your excuses. I’m not interested."

Your breath hitched as you tightened your grip on the broken bottle, your gaze flicking between the three men. Despite the man in the suit not even looking at you now, you felt the weight of his protection like a shield— and it scared you just as much as it comforted you.

One of the men took a step back, his bravado cracking. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, though his voice wavered.

The suited man’s lips curled into a humorless smile. "Oh, you’ll find out soon enough."

His gaze flicked to you again, softer this time but still heavy with something unreadable. "Drop the bottle, little one," he said quietly. "You don’t need it anymore."

You hesitated, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. But something in his voice, steady and commanding, made your fingers loosen slightly on the jagged glass.

The suited man turned his attention back to the two men, loosening his cuffs as he turned his attention to the two men. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

One of the men sneered and lunged first, but it was a mistake. The suited man moved with startling precision, sidestepping with ease before landing a sharp blow to the man’s jaw. The thug crumpled to the ground instantly.

The second man hesitated but swung wildly, aiming for his head. The suited man ducked, his movements fluid and controlled. His fist connected with the man’s ribs, and with a single upward jab to his temple, the second thug dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.

It was over in seconds.

The suited man adjusted his tie and hair as if nothing had happened, his calm demeanor almost unnerving. He stepped over the unconscious bodies, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete as he approached you.

Your grip on the broken bottle tightened again, but before you could say anything, he held up a hand.

“Careful,” he said softly, his eyes flicking to the blood on your hand. “You’re already hurt.”

Your heart pounded, your legs trembling beneath you. You wanted to ask who he was, what he wanted—but the words caught in your throat.

As if sensing your hesitation, he offered you a small, disarming smile. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his tone far too casual. “But if I don’t do this, you’ll miss all the fun.”

Your brows furrowed. “What—”

You didn’t even see him move. One moment he was standing in front of you, and the next, you felt a sharp sting at the side of your neck. Your hand flew up instinctively, fingers brushing against a small syringe he’d already pulled away.

Your vision blurred, the alley tilting around her. “What... did you do?” You managed, your voice slurring as your legs gave way.

Your vision darkened, your consciousness slipping away. The last thing you felt was his steady hands cradling you as if you were something fragile.

And then, there was nothing.

──────────────────

A sharp pounding in your skull dragged you back to consciousness. Groaning, you tried to reach up to massage your temple, but your arms wouldn’t move. Panic shot through you as you became fully aware—your wrists were tightly bound to a cold metal chair.

Your eyes snapped open, taking in your surroundings. Dim light. An unfamiliar room. And then your breath hitched.

A few meters ahead of you, the two men who had cornered you in the alley sat slumped in chairs, directly across from each other. They were conscious but visibly shaken, their hands fidgeting nervously as they avoided looking at each other.

Your heart raced as you scanned the room. The polished figure of the man in the suit stepped into view, the faint clack of his expensive shoes echoing in the otherwise silent room. He carried the same briefcase from earlier, but now it was open on a nearby table, its contents hidden from your angle.

“Ah, you’re awake.” His voice was smooth, casual, as if he were greeting an old friend. He turned to you with a smile that made your stomach churn.

Your throat tightened as you yanked at the bindings on your wrists, the rough rope biting into your skin. “Let me go!” You shouted, but your voice cracked, fear taking over.

The suited man ignored you. Instead, he turned to the two men, his expression darkening. “Now, gentlemen, here’s how it works. You’ll play a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors.” His tone was almost cheerful, as if he were explaining a board game. “The loser, unfortunately for them, will take a turn in a nice little game of Russian roulette.”

The two men looked at him in wide-eyed horror. “You’re insane,” one of them spat, though his voice quivered. The man in the suit only chuckled. “Oh, that’s rich coming from someone who thought harassing a woman in an alley was perfectly sane.”

Your heart dropped. Your stomach churned as you yanked harder at the restraints, desperate to get free. “Stop this!” You screamed, your voice raw with panic.

The man’s cold eyes flicked to you. He walked over slowly, tilting his head as if examining you. “We’ll talk later, love. Let me take care of these two first.” he said softly, as if speaking to a child.

“No ! Let me out of here !” Your scream grew louder, shrill and desperate. You weren’t going to let this happen.

The suited man sighed, pulling something from the table behind you. When he turned back, a roll of silver duct tape was in his hand. “You’re really quite loud,” he remarked with a faint smirk “when I say we’ll talk later, we will talk later.” Before you could react, he firmly pressed a strip of tape over your mouth.

You screamed against it, the sound muffled now, as tears began to blur your vision. “There we go,” he said calmly, crouching to your eye level. “Much better. Don’t worry—you’re not the one playing.” He reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, his touch gentle in a way that made your stomach twist.

Standing again, he turned back to the two men, his fingers brushed over the revolver, spinning the cylinder slowly, the soft metallic clicks echoing through the room. His voice, smooth and unhurried, cut through the tension.

“You know,” he began, his eyes flicking to you for a fleeting moment before focusing back on the two men, “I’ve been watching her for weeks now. Quiet, diligent, always walking home alone late at night. Completely unaware of the world around her.”

He smiled faintly, almost wistfully. “She never notices the things I do. The way the streetlights flicker just a little too long on that one corner she passes every day. The way her steps quicken when she hears a noise but then slow again because she convinces herself there’s nothing there.” He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. “So trusting of the silence.”

You froze, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. You thrashed against the ropes, your muffled cries filling the room as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head as he glanced at you. “It’s not as sinister as it sounds.” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “I simply… admired you from afar. I like to keep things orderly, you see. Controlled.”

He turned back to the two men, his smile fading as his expression darkened. “But you two… you ruined everything.” His tone sharpened, dripping with venom. “I had an organized, peaceful plan in place. No harm, no mess. But no. You just had to interfere with your disgusting little game, didn’t you?”

The two men exchanged frantic glances, their fear mounting with every word.

The suited man leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “I was patient. I waited. I followed her, yes, but not with ill intent. I was protecting her. Watching over her. Ensuring no harm came to her.” His voice dipped, colder now. “And then you two decided to drag her into your filthy, selfish world. For what? A moment of power? A sick thrill?”

He straightened, running a hand along the lapel of his suit, his calm exterior returning as if he hadn’t just confessed to weeks of stalking. “And if that wasn’t bad enough,” he continued, his tone now bitter, “you made her hurt herself in the process. Her blood is on your hands.” His eyes flicked to your bandaged palm, and for a brief moment, something unreadable flashed across his face.

He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of his emotions. “You crossed a line, and now you’ll pay for it.”

He turned the revolver over in his hands, spinning the cylinder again. “Still, I’m a fair man,” he said lightly, his eerie composure returning. “I’m giving you a chance to fight for your lives. Call it... a game of fate.”

He stepped back, gesturing for them to begin. “Alright gentlemen, Rock-paper-scissors. Let’s see which one of you Fate favors tonight.”

You thrashed against the chair, your muffled screams filling the room as the two men looked at each other, their hands trembling.

“Come on now,” he said to the two men, his voice calm but icy. “You don’t want to keep me waiting.”

The two men exchanged panicked glances, their hands trembling as they raised them for the first round of rock-paper-scissors. Their fear was palpable, almost suffocating, but your attention wavered.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you struggled against the ropes, your heart hammering in your chest. Your mind was still reeling from his words.

You had felt it. The chill in the air when you walked home late at night, that unsettling sensation of eyes on you. But you had convinced yourself it was nothing—paranoia, the unease of being alone in the dark. Empty streets.

But now, hearing him speak of it so casually, the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. It was him.

The man in the suit. The one who had saved you, but not because he was some white knight. He had been stalking you. Watching you. Waiting.

Terror gripped you like icy fingers around your throat, the thought of being watched so intimately, without tour knowledge, like a puppet on strings. The idea that you had been under his control all this time, and you hadn’t even known it.

But something else—a feeling you didn’t want to admit—slithered into your thoughts. You had always been alone. Always. No family to speak of. No friends who cared enough to check in. No one who looked out for you.

It had always been you against the world, and the world had never been kind. No one ever stepped in when you were vulnerable. No one ever protected you. You had learned to fend for herself, to be cold and distant, to push people away before they could disappoint you.

But now...

As twisted and sick as it was, this man had done something you had never experienced in her life: he had protected you— in a sick way but still saved you.

His twisted sense of justice, his obsession with keeping you safe—however horrifying it was—was still protection. He was about to punish the men who had tried to hurt you, and in some sick way, he had kept you alive when no one else would.

Your mind recoiled from the realization, the very thought of feeling something in response to him made you sick to your stomach. But deep inside, beneath the fear, a small part of you couldn’t shake the strange, unsettling gratitude that bubbled up.

Your fists clenched in fury, torn between disgust and something you couldn’t quite name. No, you thought fiercely. This is wrong. He’s not saving me. He’s controlling me.

But then your thoughts returned to the dark alley, to the coldness of the men’s eyes, to the knife-edge of danger. And to him. The suited man. The one who had stepped in, the one who had acted.

As much as you hated to admit it, as much as it disgusted you to feel this, there was a part of you that wanted that. Wanted someone to care. Wanted someone to fight for you.

And you weren’t sure how to feel about that.

The room got suffocatingly silent except for the shallow, uneven breaths of the two men. Their trembling hands hovered in front of them, shaking as they raised them for the next round of rock-paper-scissors.

The first round began.

“Rock... paper... scissors.”

One man threw rock, the other paper.

The loser flinched, his face pale as the suited man reached for the revolver and casually pointed it at his temple, a hint of amusement in his sharp, dark eyes.

Click.

The empty chamber echoed louder than any gunshot. The man slumped forward, relief flooding his features as he gasped for air.

The suited man’s expression didn’t change. “Next round.”

The second round came and went.

“Rock... paper... scissors.”

The other man lost this time.

Click.

Another empty chamber.

The suited man sighed, his gaze dropping to the watch on his wrist. “How... tedious,” he muttered.

The third round began.

“Rock... paper... scissors.”

Again, nothing. No gunshots, no blood, just the hollow sound of the revolver’s empty chamber.

You felt your heart pounding so hard it was like it would burst out of your chest. Every click was both a relief and a fresh torment, prolonging the nightmare.

The suited man straightened, his shoulders rolling as if to shake off his growing irritation. He turned toward the men, the smile that had been faintly lingering on his lips finally disappearing.

“This is growing dull,” he said, his voice cold and detached. He stepped closer to the table, placing one hand on the revolver. “It seems fate isn’t in the mood to entertain me tonight. So, let’s... spice things up.”

The two men froze, their fear amplifying as the suited man began calmly sliding bullets into the chambers of the revolver.

“One,” he said softly, pushing the first bullet into place.

Your stomach churned violently.

“Two.”

The suited man didn’t even look at you, his focus entirely on the gun.

“Three. Four.”

He stopped after the fifth bullet, snapping the cylinder back into place with a sharp click. He lifted the revolver and spun it lazily, the sound of the bullets shifting inside somehow more horrifying than the silence.

“There,” he said, his tone almost cheerful as he set the gun back on the table. “Now the rules have changed. The odds of survival aren’t five out of six anymore. They’re one out of six.”

The two men stared at him, their terror now paralyzing.

“Shall we continue?” he asked lightly, though the faint boredom in his tone made it clear he was no longer asking.

The next round began.

“Rock... paper... scissors.”

The loser was trembling so badly while his sobs filled the room as he felt the gun pressed against his temple.

Your entire being screamed for him to stop, to refuse, but the suited man pulled the trigger.

The deafening bang shattered the air.

You froze as the man slumped in his chair, his lifeless body sagging forward. Blood sprayed across the room, staining the floor in violent red streaks.

The suited man didn’t even flinch. He adjusted his cufflinks as if nothing had happened, his gaze slowly turning toward you.

The suited man tilted his head, studying your reaction with mild curiosity. “Hmm,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I thought that might quiet you.”

He moved toward you with calm, measured steps, and your heart pounded harder with each one.

“You’ll understand soon,” he murmured as he crouched to meet your terrified gaze. His voice was low, almost soothing, but his eyes were sharp, unrelenting. “This is justice. This is control. And in time, you’ll come to see how necessary it is.”

His expression was unreadable, though a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.

He reached for the duct tape covering your lips. “Let’s take this off, shall we?”

He peeled the tape away carefully, almost gently, as if he didn’t want to hurt you. You gasped as the air hit your chapped lips, your breathing ragged and panicked. You jerked your head away from his touch, your eyes burning with tears and fear.

But the suited man didn’t seem bothered by your reaction. Instead, he smiled softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. The unexpected tenderness in the gesture made you flinch.

“You’ve been so brave,” he said quietly, his voice soothing yet chilling. “But I can see the fear in your eyes. Don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll help you.”

You stared at him, her throat dry. “Please… please stop this,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. “Oh, my dear. It’s already begun.”

Before you could react, he stepped behind you, his hands gripping the back of your chair. The scrape of wood against the floor sent shivers down your spine as he pushed you closer to the remaining man. Your heart pounded wildly, your breaths coming faster.

The man in front of you was shaking, tears streaming down his face as he muttered desperate prayers under his breath. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes, too consumed by his own terror.

Then, you felt it.

Something cold and heavy was pressed into your hand as the ropes on one of your wrists was loosened.

Your fingers instinctively curled around it, but it wasn’t until the suited man’s hands covered yours that you realized what it was. A gun.

“No,” you choked out, trying to pull your hand away. “No, I can’t—”

“Shhh.” His voice was soft, almost tender, as he leaned closer. You could feel his breath against your ear. “You can. And you will.”

He guided your hand, forcing the gun to point directly at the man’s head. His fingers were firm over yours, his grip unyielding.

“Do you know what they would have done to you?” he whispered, his tone darkening.

You froze, her breath hitching.

“They would’ve dragged you to some filthy basement,” he continued, his voice like poison dripping into your ears. “Used you. Hurt you. Made you beg for mercy they would never give. You know that, don’t you?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook your head, your voice cracking. “Stop—please, stop—”

“And then,” he went on, his voice cold and calm, “they’d toss you aside like garbage when they were done. You wouldn’t have survived the night.”

His words twisted in your mind, planting seeds of fear and rage. You hated him for saying it, hated the sickening truth of it, but you couldn’t stop herself from imagining it. The alley. The men. The terror.

“No one would’ve come for you,” he said softly. “No one but me.”

Your breaths came in shallow gasps. Your hands were trembling so hard that the gun wavered, but the suited man’s firm grip steadied it, keeping it aimed at the man’s head.

“I’ve already done the hard part for you,” he murmured. “Now, all you have to do is pull the trigger. Take your revenge.”

“I can’t…” You whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t do it…”

His expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. “Do you think mercy will save him? Do you think letting him go will make him a better person? He won’t stop, Y/N. Men like him never stop.”

The man in the chair sobbed harder, his voice hoarse with fear. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll leave her alone, I swear—”

“Do you hear that?” the suited man hissed, his voice venomous. “Pathetic. He’s begging for his life, just like he would’ve made you beg for yours.”

Your vision blurred with tears. You shook your head again, but your resolve was crumbling. The suited man’s voice was relentless, worming its way into your mind, drowning out everything else.

“I can’t…” you whispered again, her voice barely audible.

“Don't make me wait, Y/N.” he said sharply, his tone now commanding. His grip on your hand tightened.

Before you could react, he pressed down on your finger, forcing it against the trigger.

The gunshot echoed like thunder in the room.

You screamed, the sound ripping from your throat as the man’s lifeless body slumped in the chair. Blood splattered across the floor and your face, the metallic scent filling the air.

The gun slipped from your hand, clattering to the ground as you trembled violently. Your chest heaved with sobs, your mind reeling.

The suited man straightened behind you, his expression calm and composed, as if nothing had happened.

“Bravo,” the suited man said, his voice slicing through your spiraling thoughts. He clapped his hands together slowly, deliberately, as if you’d just performed a flawless symphony. “You’ve taken your first step toward understanding. I’m so proud of you.”

He walked around to stand in front of you, crouching down to meet your tear-streaked gaze. “You did well, my dear. And don’t worry—I’ll take care of everything.” he said softly, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. You could only stare at him, your entire body trembling with shock and horror.

His fingers gently tilted your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his piercing gaze. His smile was soft, almost tender, but there was something unrelenting in his eyes. “You’re shaking,” he said softly, “That’s natural. The first time is always the hardest. But you did it, my dear. You stood up for yourself. You took control.”

He sighed, as if sensing your silence was not out of gratitude but out of pure, unfiltered shock. Straightening to his full height, his hands moved to the ropes binding you to the chair.

“I’m going to untie you now,” he said casually, as if you were discussing nothing more than an evening stroll. “But listen to me carefully, Y/N.”

His voice hardened, his tone dropping to something sharp and dangerous.

“Do not run.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding violently in your chest.

“I’ll warn you once,” he said in a low, icy whisper. “Not twice.”

The tension in the room was suffocating as he loosened the knots, and you felt the pressure on your wrists and ankles ease. The moment the ropes fell away, your instincts screamed at you to move.

You didn’t hesitate.

The second you were free, you bolted, ignoring the ache in your limbs and the burn in your lungs. You didn’t care where you were going—you just needed to get away from him.

The building was old and labyrinthine, the narrow hallways dimly lit by flickering bulbs. Door after door lined the walls, but every knob you twisted refused to budge. Your breaths came in panicked gasps as you stumbled forward, adrenaline fueling your desperate escape.

Finally, at the end of the hallway, you saw it: a door different from the others. It was larger, its frame sturdier, and unlike the others, it didn’t have the peeling paint or rusted hinges. It had to lead somewhere.

You sprinted toward it, your heart hammering in your chest. Your fingers barely brushed the doorknob when—

Bang!

You were slammed against the door with enough force to knock the breath out of you. A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt a firm hand on your shoulder, spinning you around. Your back pressed hard against the cold surface, and you were face to face with him once more.

The suited man loomed over you, his expression calm but his eyes blazing with a dangerous intensity. His hands rested on either side of you, boxing you in.

“I told you not to run,” he said softly, his voice calm but carrying a sharp edge that sent shivers down your spine.

Your chest heaved as you stared up at him, your pulse racing. “Please—” you gasped, your voice breaking. “Just let me go!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you with that same unsettling, calculated gaze. Then he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Go?” he echoed, his tone almost amused. “After everything we’ve been through tonight? After I’ve gone to such lengths to teach you an important lesson?”

Your hands trembled at your sides, your fight-or-flight instincts screaming for you to keep struggling, to push him away, to do something. But his presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and your body felt rooted to the spot.

“You can run all you want,” he said softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “But you’ll always end up right where I want you.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Because you’re mine, Y/N. And I always take care of what’s mine.”

“There’s no running away anymore,” he continued quietly, his tone final, as if it were a simple statement of fact.

Your lips trembled, your voice breaking as you finally managed to speak. “W-Why me?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly, as if your question intrigued him.

“What do you mean, why you?” he asked softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your fear bubbling into frustration. “Why are you doing this? Why did you—why did you choose me?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He simply studied you, his piercing gaze roaming your face as if searching for something. Then, slowly, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“Do you remember the day you fell?” he asked, his voice smooth and quiet, as if he were recalling a fond memory.

You blinked, your mind reeling. “What?”

“In the park,” he continued, his tone almost gentle now. “A man running past knocked you down. You fell hard—scraped your hands, tore your jeans.” He chuckled softly, almost nostalgically. “You looked so startled. Like you couldn’t believe the world could be that cruel to you.”

Your heart sank as the memory surfaced in your mind. You remembered it vividly now—a busy afternoon at the park, the sting of gravel biting into your palms, the burn of embarrassment as strangers walked past without a second glance. But one person had stopped.

“You…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You were there.”

He nodded, his smile widening. “I was.”

“You helped me up…”

“And when I did,” he said, leaning in closer, “I saw something in you. Something different. Something I liked.”

Your chest tightened, your breath catching in your throat. “What… what did you see?”

His eyes darkened, his expression soft yet deeply unsettling. “You looked… lost. Like you didn’t belong anywhere. Like you didn’t even expect someone to help you. And I thought to myself, ‘She’s perfect.’”

Your stomach churned, dread coiling tightly around your chest. “That’s it?” she whispered, your voice trembling. “That’s why you… why you’ve been following me?”

He chuckled again, the sound low and unnerving. “Does it matter?” he said lightly. “I made a choice that day. I promised myself I’d make you mine. And here we are.”

“But…” Your voice cracked, your fear and confusion spilling over. “It could’ve been anyone, couldn’t it? Anyone who fell, anyone who—”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, cutting you off. “But it wasn’t anyone. It was you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, their weight sinking into you like lead. The ease with which he dismissed your individuality, the casual indifference of his reasoning—it was more terrifying than anything else.

“Call it fate,” he said, his tone almost playful now. “Call it chance. Either way, I’m not one to waste an opportunity when it presents itself. And you, my dear… you were an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

He straightened, his smile softening as his hand brushed your cheek.

Your head snapped up, “So what? You’ll keep me as your prisoner?”

He tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Prisoner? No, no. You misunderstand. This isn’t about taking anything from you. It’s about giving you something you’ve never had.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowed.

“You’ve spent your whole life alone, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice low and almost sympathetic. “No friends. No one to lean on. No one to protect you.”

“I saw it the day we met,” he continued, his tone softening. “You were surrounded by people, but you might as well have been invisible. No one cared enough to help you when you fell. No one even noticed. But I did. I noticed you, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ll never stop noticing you. I’ll never stop protecting you. Because you don’t need the world. You don’t need anyone but me.”

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His words echoed in your mind, weaving through your thoughts like a siren’s song, drowning out the rational voice screaming at you to fight, to resist.

Your entire life had been spent searching for someone to notice you, to care, to see you. And now, standing before you, was someone who had done all of that—even if it was in the most twisted and terrifying way imaginable.

Your lips parted, trembling as you tried to find something to say, anything that could defy the pull of his gaze, the weight of his words. But you couldn’t. You were tired. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of being alone.

And for the first time, someone wasn’t letting you go.

“I…” Your voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I’ll… stay.”

The words tasted foreign on your tongue, and yet, the moment they left your lips, a dark satisfaction flickered across his face. He stepped closer, his movements fluid and deliberate, until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered, barely audible, your voice shaking as your walls began to crumble.

His thumb slid across your bottom lip, and his smile softened, though the dark intensity in his eyes remained.

Before you could react, his lips captured yours, gentle at first, as though testing your resolve. You froze, your body stiff, but as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, something inside you broke. The warmth of his touch, the way his lips moved against yours—it was too much, too overwhelming.

And so, you let yourself fall.

Your hands hesitantly reached for him, gripping the fabric of his suit jacket as you kissed him back, your movements unsteady and unsure. He deepened the kiss, his control unyielding, as if claiming you with every brush of his lips.

When he pulled back slightly, your breaths mingling in the small space between you, he whispered, “You’ll see, Y/N. You won’t need anyone else. Not when you have me.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate. He guided you gently toward another room which had a completely different atmosphere. A high ceiling decorated by a beautiful chandelier and a king sized bed, neatly dressed.

When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you sat down, your heart pounding in your chest as he knelt before you. His movements slow, giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

His hands found your thighs, his touch warm and firm as he looked up at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me show you what that means.”

Your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, your hands sliding into his hair as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

His hands roamed your body with practiced ease, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment. And as his lips traced a path down your skin, you felt yourself slipping further into his control, your resolve crumbling with every kiss, every touch.

For the first time in your life, someone had made you feel seen, wanted, protected—even if it was twisted and wrong.

And so, as you let him guide you into the dark embrace of his world, you made a silent promise to herself.

You would stay.

For now.

[canonically47]

all it took was one tweet

and trust me, i heard them out alright...

READ HERE !! :3

[arbitrarykiwi]

It's Just Business, Baby: Workplace Conflict 1/4

The Recruiter/The salesman x Recruiter!fem reader Smut series

Summary: he saw no reason why they would want to hire you. He did just fine at the job! The higher-ups were stupid for even bringing you onboard, you had to be a liability. You were a walking enigma, a witch! He hated every little thing you did. So when he tells himself he’s following you so he could always be a step ahead of you, he doesn’t understand why after each meeting he’s left wanting to see you more.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+), stalking, the recruiter’s a warning in himself, kidnapping (reader is insane and kidnaps some people for fun who did her wrong), blood mention, violence, slapping ((list will change based on chapter))

Other Chapters: Overtime 2/4 , After Hours 3/4 , Professional Provocation 4/4

(Additional chapters will be linked when they release)

He’d like to think of himself as a level headed guy (he’s not) who can take orders from his boss well and can adapt in the workplace without issue (he can’t).

But when the big guy in charge hired you to join him in this odd recruiting job- he fucking hated it. He hated you.

He was the only one recruiting those low lives into the games and he did a fantastic job, there’s never been an issue! So why did they have to hire you?! Surely you were a threat to the organization. You hardly looked like you could hurt a fly let alone do the things that the job requires.

You were much smaller than him, always wearing a suit similar to his- though he noticed pretty soon upon meeting you that your jacked you wore was much more cinched than his, accentuating your waist. And that made him dislike you even more- is that why they hired you? They figured sex appeal would bring more to the games?!

And then you always had this sick and twisted smile on your face. It’s sickly sweet, like you can tell the future and plan ahead knowing what he’d say before he said it. You were always one step ahead of him. The worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice, or if you did you didn’t care. You paid him little to no attention. Only speaking to him to belittle him or to say some snarky remark in response to him belittling you.

Your eyes always seemed to be narrowed, like you were trying to solve everyone like a puzzle that was presented to you. You seemed to be observant, more so than the average person. He’s tried multiple times to sneak up on you, to try and stalk you from the shadows- yet you always spot him. He’s convinced you’ve adapted some ability of echolocation or something, there was no way you should be able to notice him half the time you do.

You were too complex, too aware of your surroundings, too quick on your feet. He was in competition. And he did not like competition.

Although you knew he greatly disliked you, you really had no idea of this inner battle he had. You didn’t think you were in a race or a competition at all, it didn’t matter to you. What did matter to you were his reactions. That’s the whole reason you continued to mess with him.

The first year you worked with him and the people behind the annual games, you were a complete enigma. He literally couldn’t figure you out. He was good at tracking people and digging up information, but you? Nothing. He was sure you’d be dumb enough to let your name slip in passing or even get a glimpse into your personal life. But nothing.

He tried to follow you home once, sticking to the shadows and moving silently. He knew you didn’t see him, he was sure of it. He managed to follow you from behind for nearly 45 minutes. He figured that’s why you were able to be so secretive- you lived so far away from where you two were normally stationed.

But as you begin to make random twists and turns, he begins to feel like you’re playing him- but you can’t be, he’s sure you never saw him. But when you rounded a corner and head into an alley way, him following after you only a few feet behind, he rounds the corner- and you’re gone. It was then he gets it, you probably didn’t live anywhere near where he followed you out to, you were simply just trailing him along in a god awful game of cat and mouse.

He screams, he’s agitated. He throws his briefcase against the metal trash can, kicking the bags of trash erratically in the alley way. He’s so enraged he doesn’t even realize you’re peeking out of a window of the building you snuck into. Giggling silently to yourself as you watch him throw a temper tantrum.

The next two years you worked for the games- it was the same fucking thing. He knew nothing. The only extra bit of information he had as the years passed was that you were bringing in more recruits to the game than he was.

He never had to worry about a ‘quota’ or worry about how many people join the game because of him; because they all joined when he offered them the brown card and promised them a chance for more money. All 456 players were recruited by him.

Now? With you in the picture? He had to compete. He had to work harder- something he hated having to do- to make sure he got more people to call and secure their spots in the game than you did.

But somehow. Some-fucking-how in the three years you’ve worked for the games- you’ve gotten more people to call in.

The first year, he had 227 people enter and you had 229. He called it beginners luck, only two more people- nothing he wanted to bother himself over. He already had to put all his attention on hating you- he couldn’t focus on losing to you by such a small difference.

The second year? He had 205, you had 251. Yeah, he was getting pissed. There was no way you were better than him. Who would even trust a girl like you to offer them a chance of a life time? Maybe it was because they thought you were a hooker. It was a surprise they called the number and when a sex-hotline didn’t pick up they didn’t just hang the phone up.

You did not care about numbers- you never kept track. You only found out that a log is kept detailing which recruiter got how many players to join when he made a snide comment the past year about how you ‘somehow’ got more players to join the game than he did. Sure, you knew you were quick- working down the list of names given to you by the anonymous higher-ups in rapid succession, but that’s just how you worked.

When you found out about his little competition, the one he seemingly made up by himself, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. It was somewhat endearing to seem him so worked up over some internal issue he had with being second best. He would put more effort into his recruitments- working over time to try and get to more people than you.

So of course you do work a bit faster than normal for the next time you’re given a list of names of the people you two were to scout out.

The third year, he came to the full realization that he hated you completely. With his entire being he loathed you. Your effort to annoy him paid off, you had gotten a whopping 306 people to join. To say he was enraged was an understatement- he could swear he would kill you only…. if it wouldn’t put his job on the line.

And to top it all off, he sill knew nothing about you aside from the fact you irked him to his very core. He wanted to find your weakness, use them against you. As much as he tried to find one, to hunt you down when you left work in hopes of catching you doing something he could use against you.

But he didn’t, you were more closed off than he was. And he despised you for it. He was supposed to know everything. And now that the head people decided to add another recruiter, that he adamantly swore they didn’t even need, he knew significantly less than he wanted, no, needed to.

You were a walking enigma. You seemed to just vanish into thin air as soon as your shift is over, you didn’t look like you could hold your own but he figured you had to be able to if you were hired, and you always had that dumb fucking smirk on your face.

He remembered when the first time when he actually saw you working. He was carrying a bag full of bread, making his way to a little side quest he decided to give himself. He figured maybe the break from constantly working to have the one up on you, he’d do something he enjoyed doing. And if that just so happened to be offering bread or lottery tickets to homeless people in some crude choice game, then that’s what he’d do. Anything to get his mind off you.

But no, you just had to be a pesky little parasite and show up everywhere he went.

Admittedly, you didn’t know he’d be passing through the park you’d be in- you were directed to go here by your boss to begin the recruitment process so the park is where you dutifully found yourself. You genuinely didn’t try to run into him- hell you enjoy keeping far from him, you couldn’t stand his attitude.

But when he steps through the gates of the park, leisurely strolling excited to begin his daily itinerary, he hears someone gasp and begin to shout. That’s not the normal sounds you’d hear in this park, he thinks. He stops in his track tilting his head as he listens harder.

It’s a almost rhythmic beat of a few sounds, a couple ‘thwaps’- like something light and sturdy hitting the cobblestone trail of the park , then the same shouting as before, and finally a resounding ‘smack’, all before the rhythm repeats.

There’s no fucking way, he thinks. His normal seething anger that he’s had since you joined the job returning full throttle. He knew the sounds he was hearing could be none other than you playing ddakji with some down on their luck civilian. His head is whipping around the park. He needs to find you.

He tells himself that he needs to see you work so he knows you’re not making a fool out of the games and their integrity. He needs to know you’re actually doing what you’re supposed to be doing- you’re a new employee, of course he needs to shadow you and scrutinize every movement you make, it’s what a good senior employee would do.

He’s following the sounds with a fury, quickly coming upon you and the lowlife gambling with you down a hill at the edge of the park. He calmly walks behind a tree, shielding himself from view. His eyes are trained on you like a hawk about to kill its prey.

He wants to say you’re weak, that you’re an excuse of a recruiter but when he sees the civilian lose, failing to flip your paper square, you don’t hold back. The corner or your lip curls up ever so slightly, the movement unnoticeable to anyone else but him. It was simply because he was so observant to the world around him as a whole.

Not because he would spend every moment he got to stare at you, memorizing every feature of your face and how it naturally rests.

Then your arm winds back, your palm connecting in an open handed slap that echos throughout the part. It was hard enough to knock the baseball cap off of the poor mans head, his face forced sideways with the intensity of the slap.

And then you settle back into a resting position. Almost like you never slapped the man at all. You just stood there, the same grin on your face that he despises and nod towards the man. “Would you like to play again.” To be honest, this was the most he has heard you speak, the job didn’t require you two to interact much- in fact there was rules in place to make sure you and him didn’t get close.

He was strangely fascinated by your voice. It was light, had a specific cadence to particular syllables that made your voice a temptation in itself. No wonder the man you were playing with was quick to agree to go again- like the man was under some sort of trance. And that pissed him off more.

He watched on from behind the tree, eyes narrowing visualizing the idea of you struggling under his grasp, hands holding your throat. He quickly shook his head from the idea- finding that it made heat rush to his cock.

He turns quickly on his heels, not wanting to look at you further. He was mad that you made him feel this way. It made him hate you more. You were a twisted little witch who was casting spells to make his dick hard- at least that’s what he told himself.

He also remembers a time when you had gotten off a train at his stop, catching him right as he handed the signature brown paper card to another unsuspecting victim. You’re walking tall, your eyes rimmed by smokey eyeshadow, and when you notice him- your brow quirked up.

He keeps his composure, the same smile he always has when interacting with ‘clients’ on his face though you can see the corner of his lip twitching, like he’s fighting himself not to scowl.

You hold up one of your hands in a move of mock defense, “No need for theatrics, just passing by to go to my station.” You hum with a grin that makes him want to choke you. Again, it’s the most he’s heard out of you in three years. You and your witch tactics. And then suddenly, all he can think about is fucking you until the cocky lilt to your voice is replaced by broken sobs.

To suppress these thoughts, he just becomes enraged. You can see the way his eye twitches, the way his smile that’s always plastered on his face falters into a scowl. And before he can even speak, you’re walking past him and down the subway-practically disappearing into the crowd.

The whole interaction pisses him off more when he manages to get a hold of your work itinerary, finding that your station for that day was no where near the stop you got off at. In fact, it was on the total opposite side of town. You genuinely just wanted to piss him off.

And it was working.

Every day he woke up his thoughts were plauged by his hatred of you. The way you smiled, the way you’d tilt your head when someone would talk to you- he knew you only did it to make people think like you cared to listen to their troubles. He knew you didn’t, you didn’t care at all- you just wanted to slip that card into their hands and have them call. Securing you another point in the imaginary game he was playing against you.

What made it even worse- the job you both had didn’t ride on how many people you called in. The people above you two simply kept track to make sure you were doing a decent enough job to stay working for them, there was no prize for getting more people and there was no punishment.

Yet he felt like he was being punished. Every day he would have to pass by you somehow. It was like the higher ups wanted to fuck with him. He would see you walking through the park on your way to the next subway station, catching you just as you board a subway car, you pass by him even when he wasn’t working somehow.

One day when you were both at an abandoned warehouse waiting for the days orders, he figured he’d finally say something. “I find you annoying.” He’d grumble out, fingers tapping against the handle of his brief case. “I’m aware.” You responded, it was such a simple answer yet the corner of your lip curled up ever so slightly.

In a second he’s dropping his briefcase and lunging forward. His hand is on your neck, squeezing relentlessly as he shoves you back against the concrete wall. Your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his wrist, he’s surprised that your grip hurts him. Maybe you weren’t as weak as he first thought.

He expects you to be scared, to be begging for your life-but you’re not. Despite your face begging to turn red and your lips beginning to turn a light hue of blue- you just look at him with that same shit-eating smirk you always wore. “I could kill you right fucking now.” He growls, shoving you harder into the wall for emphasis.

You laugh, the sound only fueling his anger, his fingers tightening. “You won’t.” You answer, your eyebrow raised mockingly, “You kill me. They kill you.” You choke out, your grin still wide as ever even as the breath is beginning to be squeezed out of you. “‘N you’re too much of a good lap dog to go against the wishes of your owner.”

You spit the words out with a weak and breathless laugh. He’s seething, his jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth. But you’re right- he kills you, he’s dead. One of the first things he was told when you were hired was under no circumstances was he to harm his co-worker, or as they labeled it ‘partner’.

However, he would rather shove the barrel of a gun into the back of his mouth before he referred to you as his partner. He is also a model employee so just when you think you’re about to pass out, he releases his grip from your throat.

You gasp for air a couple times before you settle again, simply looking back over to him with your normal wicked grin. Your neck is already beginning to turn red, and in places purple- the outline of his fingers now bruised into your skin.

He would never admit it but the image does things to him that he can’t describe. “A little over kill don’t you think?” You ask in a monotone voice. And the feeling is gone, you ruined it. That fucking smart mouth of yours.

“Far from it.” He growls out, leaning down to grab his briefcase from the dusty floor. And then both your watches are buzzing. You check them in an eerily similar manner, looking down to check the orders received at the exact same time.

And you’re both departing, going to the assigned location that was sent to you. Your steps echo on the gravel of the abandoned warehouse his eyes twitching as he can tell your skipping. You never cease to add to his deep loathing of you.

Yet he can’t stop trying to investigate you. Somehow he managed to intercept your itinerary. It was a tedious task that he’s sure he could never do again unless he wanted to risk getting fired (executed). One of the big rules that was put in place when you were hired was the two of you were to never share schedules or orders you were given.

But he managed to snatch a paper that looked to be your schedule for the day. He kept it tucked into his suit pocket until he was finished with business for the day. His eyes dart to the time block of the time it was. Between the normal locations for recruiting, you had a large ‘meeting’ blocked out.

He quirks his eyebrow up, this wasn’t normal. He looks closer at the paper and scoffs, you must be getting sloppy. You’re not hiding from his as well. He can make out the indentations of writing that was on written on a piece of paper that previously laid atop the paper he stole.

In the shadow of your handwriting- even your handwriting was perfect, fuck he hated you- was a the time it was now and an address. He knew the place, an apartment building that was currently being constructed.

He’s making his way down there quickly, hoping he would be able to catch you doing whatever you were doing. And when he makes it to the address and begins to hear humming he’s ducking into the construction site, beginning to weave between concrete following the sound.

He comes to a large opening, it’s lit by candles and lanterns, there’s a round table with three chairs set up. In one chair was you, the other two were occupied by two men, tied up and gagged. You’re giggling to yourself, waving a revolver around as you speak.

“You two really are something, cryin’ and acting all scared.” You hiss, leaning over the table and pressing the gun to one of the males head, only laughing louder when the male flinches and cries harder. “I haven’t even done anything to you two! If anything I should be the one crying!” You say pointing to yourself with the gun. “You two were the ones who spiked my drink the other week. You guys were much more fun then- talked back more, acted all big and bad, made me think I might have a challenge.” You pout, quickly sitting up from the chair and beginning to circle the table.

Now your black haired co-worker that hates you but can’t stay away from you is watching on from the shadows. He’s captivated by what he sees, you were fucking insane it seemed- much like him. You had a crazed look in your eyes, a drastic difference from the usual stoic smirk you wore.

“You guys ever play Russian roulette?” You chirp out, circling the table and dragging the end of the revolver on the wood. He watches from behind a pillar as you load a bullet into the chamber.

He tells himself he has to leave, not because he can’t watch- no he wants nothing more than to watch, but all he can think about is how delicious you looked in your crazed murderous frenzy. The twisted smile, the oddly innocent voice despite having two grown men bound and gagged, the evil game he could hear going on in the room- it all made him want you.

And he can’t have that. He’s supposed to hate you. He closes his eyes and runs both his hands through his hair, trying to collect himself. He guesses he spaced out because two loud gun shots sound off. His eyes are snapping open. He’s moving to turn around but he’s caught off guard by you walking past him.

“You missed the best part.” You hum out as you continue to walk, briefcase in one hand and the other straightening out your blazer. “Thought you may have joined, what a shame.” You say, turning around and looking at him over your shoulder.

His eyes widen ever so slightly as you turn and begin to walk off- you knew he would follow you, you knew he’d find the indentations of your writing and you allowed him to get a hold of your schedule.

You were always one step ahead of you and he needed to change that. He needed to be the one in charge. Not you.

Heyyyy pookies !! Ty for reading 🫶 I took a break from requests to finish this up because I’m literally vibrating thinking about this man. This is going to be a 4 part series that will eventually have full length smut at the last chapter.

These chapters will come slowly between requests. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you’d want to be added to the tag list for future parts of the fic- all love <3 kiwi

[frost-queen]

Player 001 / Young-il x Player!reader

• One more game // part 1

• Choices // part 2

• Six legs // part 3

• X or O // part 4

• Mingle // part 5

• Gimbap // part 6

• Friend or foe // part 7

• Aftermatch // part 8

• Human chess // part 9

• Frontman // part 10

• Coming // part 11

Salesman / recruiter x reader

• Russian roulette

• Touch so foreign

Hwang Jun-ho x Reader

• Noisy cop

[lafiola]

The Recruiter x Fem!Reader [PART 1]

cw: gun play, blood kink, forced oral (f receiving), forced kissing, non-consensual touching, sadism, dead dove: do not eat, non-consensual masturbation, stalking

!!: the tags correspond to the second part, but I'm leaving them here just in case

I'm going to die tomorrow, and if you find this, it's probably too late. It's embarrassing that I don't know you, and you don't know me, but I hope you can have some empathy for my fate; and maybe somewhere where I can be happy, that will help me have some compassion for my next life.

.

.

.

.

The tiny letter you had left as a pitiful legacy had been left behind; on one of those stone benches in the enclosed park, where the tramps used to go to sleep. You thought that many of them would pay no attention to it, and lost sighs during each word would be of no use, but you did it anyway: you leaned the paper in a corner, pressed by a stone so that the wind would not blow it away. Your letter was going to be read; at least the first few words. That was enough.

Your death was going to be disastrous, that was certain. You had chosen one of the highest bridges, the one over one of the busiest avenues. When it was three or four o'clock in the morning you were going to jump off it; your body would crash to the asphalt, interrupting traffic, and your brains would paint the pedestrian crossing where a group of police and assigned professionals would soon come to inspect your remains. Quite dramatic, to be sure, but memorable.

You were still a bit sad to die like that; with so many people watching. That was what you wanted most of all: to die. It was as simple as that. But who could assure you that no one would record you? Who would forget you at the end of the year? People really die when they are forgotten, because what is man but the result of a social construction; and if at least one human being could have a fragment of you in their memory, engraved like your flesh against the rough ground at the dry impact of the fall, something so simple and brutal, how could you really disappear? You were to be the icon of an ephemeral internet star; some pitiful soul representative of the underdogs, those unable to do what you would do in a couple of hours.

You didn't want your soul locked up in limbo, in the same world where you could no longer find your spouse. You wanted to go with them.

You felt it deep inside you; in that corner so easily mistaken for the heart. You knew that they had died long ago, after they had returned and disappeared again to play those infamous games they talked so much about. Big money, they said; that there was a big prize for whoever could make it to the finish line. Many people in one place, like rats, and prey to some strangers with morbid ideas.

True or not, your spouse had no longer returned home. Dead or missing with the supposed prize. It didn't matter to you; you had spent every last penny to pay off your debts. Debts that were not really yours, but no one else's either. It was just you, the bridge... and the stranger in the suit underneath. 

Someone in the middle of the street.

A car or two honked their horns from time to time as they passed by the man. He kept looking up at you. You couldn't quite make out his features, but you'd bet it could be grief judging by his free hand raised in the air; between his fingers a piece of paper that suddenly reminded you of your letter. You felt ashamed again.

‘’It's not safe to stand on the edge of such a high bridge!‘’ he shouted. You could hear a smile in his voice.

You didn't answer, but as soon as you saw him head for the stairs leading to the bridge, you jumped down to make a dash for the other end. Your plan now was to escape. If the man caught up with you, you were going to have to explain yourself or, worse, face the police or paramedics, as you had sometimes seen with other cases of interrupted suicides. You didn't want to face up to something so overwhelming. Death shouldn't be overwhelming!

Halfway down the stairs you stumbled, and had to grab the handrail with both hands. Your body slammed sideways into the rest of the steps, and your thighs burned with the friction of the icy metal. Wearing shorts had not been a good choice. When you got to your feet as soon as you heard another call, you went back down step by step until you hit the street, and didn't look back before catching your breath and running as fast as you could; your heart in your throat, and your name in the wind, spoken by a stranger's voice with a laugh akin to that of a friend.

The stranger in the suit who seemed to know you, and whom you had never seen before in your life.

Night was already coming to the city. You had to keep your eyes open and gather your courage to cross the emptier streets; you avoided bars, restaurants or crowded areas. Your goal was to escape the pair of hurried footsteps behind you. He seemed to be about to catch up with you.

Said and done, a hand with strong fingers grabbed one of your arms, and made you stumble to the side. Your back hit one of the walls of a closed alley. When you opened your eyes, the pain clouding your vision, it took you some time to notice the imposing figure of the stranger in front of you. He was panting as much as you, but he smiled consistently while arching his eyebrows.

The sound of his briefcase hitting the floor startled you. Seconds later, your letter appeared in his free hand again.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” he asked in a choked murmur. A few strands of hair fell into his face, accentuating his darkened eyes. His sallow skin glistened under a sheen of sweat. “The letter—it’s yours.”

“How do you know my name?” The only sensible thing you could think of to say was that. Tiredness and nerves interrupted something in your head.

His hand released your arm, caressing your bare skin to soothe the pain. It was an instant. Your letter ended up in your hands; the stranger fixed his hair, jacket and shirt, and then took his distance. You were about to repeat your question, when the name of your spouse came out of his mouth.

Name, age, address and debt. You immediately jumped at the last part.

"I've already paid off that debt!”

"I know," he nodded, "That's not why I've addressed you.”

"And why did you chase me all the way out here then?”

"It has been deemed necessary for you to know of the passing of your spouse. They have left nothing behind; but perhaps this news is more than enough for you to be able to live in peace.”

His eyes fell on the letter in your hands. You shook your head, stretching your arms out to him. The paper trembled over your fingers as a breeze brushed against it.

"I have done everything I had pending so far," you replied. "What remains for me is the solitude of the early dawn, and with it, my impending death.”

“Solitude?” he arched his eyebrows again, dwarfing the smile. “You seek solitude on the busiest avenue to end your life?”

“It's not something you should be interested in.”

“It seems to me that you're afraid of dying alone,” he snorted. “In fact, I think you were waiting for someone like me to show up to save your life. If this is distressing, it's because of your lack of ability to make a good decision.”

You choked on your saliva. “Excuse me? What was that all about?”

Your name, your age and your address hung in the air after leaving between his lips. Lips that you didn't stop seeing until his voice faded into the night.

“How do you know so much about me?" you whispered. "What have you done to my partner?”

“What you would have done to yourself had you not been responsible enough for your own problems,” he replied. “Congratulations on paying off your debt.”

.

.

.

.

A weirdo, that's what you thought of the stranger when you saw him leave. He was heading to the bridge again; possibly to recruit more people desperate for some money. Something like that was what you imagined all the time when you thought of your spouse. Had they suffered a lot in the process? Where had they been taken? Were they coming for you, or did the stranger really show up to announce your loss?

For a week you continued to ponder the idea of suicide, while living with paranoid scenarios at every suspicious sound or face. Sometimes you would turn around as you walked, looking for the same eyes in the crowd, and you would even look for a job to cover the cost of rent a little far from where you lived. Until you could sell that house you were going to keep hiding from a ghost.

You went back to the torturous routine; you fed when memories did not punish your mind, and slept when your heart no longer ached. No way did you ever cross the bridge again, let alone the adjacent avenues. You struggled to regain your composure until nothing helped: The Recruiter had returned at the three-month mark.

You found him on a platform, casually sitting in complete solitude. At least until you ran down the stairs. The train had already left, the stranger's eyes were on you, and there was nothing you could do when you had your body on the same surface. You didn't even look him in the face; you feigned ignorance, barely trembling when you heard him sigh very close to you.

“I haven't seen you again in a long time,” he said. “Was the suicide plan finally scrapped?”

You snorted to keep from letting out a dry, unfunny laugh. “I didn't want to run into you, and right now I realize I did the right thing.”

“Until now.”

When you turned to see him, he had his eyes on you again. It was an intense, opaque gaze, with a feeling akin to desire; something that made your skin crawl, and made you swallow dry. His smile didn't even feel polite anymore.

“You're really not going to take me?” you asked. “You're not going to do to me what you do to all those people?”

“What do you think I do to people?”

“They told me,” you continued in a broken voice. He arched his eyebrows, intrigued. “They told me about a ridiculous game with red and blue papers, and about the money and the slapping, too. Then they went home, and some time later disappeared again.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “it's not my fault. I never forced them into anything.”

“You killed them.”

“Oh, please,” he laughed. “I am a simple messenger. I bring the good news, and they decide. Nothing that happens next is up to me.”

“I don't believe you.” You let out a sigh, clasping your hands together over your lap. You kept your gaze on them. “What are you doing here, at the train station? What business is waiting for you?”

“Are you suddenly interested in me? How wonderful; I feel my cheeks burning.”

“You're ridiculous.”

The Recruiter's laughter broke the silence like an invasive melody. That made you nervous.

“Don't get any weird ideas about me!” you added.

“I've gotten a lot of ideas about you, but none really terrible,” he replies. “You're different from them; you're better. A lovely version.”

When you raised your head to look into his eyes, you found a slight smile on his face and a much warmer glow in his gaze. The Recruiter had leaned back, resting his back against the wall. Both legs slightly apart, and his hands on his thighs; his suitcase rested on the floor, brushing against one of his shoes.

The closeness of his right leg to your left leg did not make you uncomfortable at all, which might have generated some sort of embarrassment if not for the realization of his recent confession.

“You talk about me as if you know me,” you said. “Should I take that as a warning that I've been being investigated by a man in a suit?”

“You think that's sexy?” His smile widened as if fueled by the grace of a demon. That glint in his gaze returned to the same as before: dark and hungry.

"I think you are sick, and if you don't stop now, then I will go to the police.”

“Good luck with that,” he snorted. In one neat motion he rose from his place, and bent to pick up his suitcase before giving you one last look. “May the night be brief for you; I hope so with all my heart. I know you have not been sleeping well.”

“Because of you,” you growled.

The Recruiter let out another laugh, this time more charming. The echo continued even as he retreated on his way to the stairs, completely ignoring the arrival of the last train.

The idea that he had been resorting to the bridge to witness the resolution of your own grief made your hair stand on end. You didn't want to accept that someone so crazy was after you; but this man had clearly been tracking you, and you didn't know how much longer this situation would last without something terrible happening to you. How many women survived their stalkers? You were not going to be the exemption from a tragedy.

[carlosainzgf]

A CHALLENGE

the salesman x fem!reader (smut)

warning: lowkey kidnapping and shit but not really but kinda idk, some knife play but just a little, this man needs a warning just for existing tbh

the subway station bustled with life, its fluorescent lights reflecting off cold tile walls. you leaned against a pillar, your arms crossed as you waited for the train. your eyes scanned the sea of strangers, unaware of the man approaching you, briefcase in hand.

“excuse me,” came a smooth, honeyed voice.

you looked up, startled by the mens polished appearance and confident smile. his tailored suit and immaculate grooming contrasted starkly with the chaos around them. “i couldn’t help but notice you,” he began, holding out a red and blue tile. “you seem like someone who likes a challenge. care for a game of ddakji?”

you glanced at him, your guard immediately up. “im fine, thanks.”

the man chuckled, pulling a red and blue tile from his briefcase. “not even for a chance to win some cash?” his tone was playful, but his sharp eyes never left yours, assessing every flicker of emotion on your face. your brows furrowed. “what’s the catch?”

“nothing too serious.” he knelt slightly, holding up the tiles like a magician revealing a trick. “we play ddakji. If you win, i’ll give you 100,000 won. if I win…” he paused, letting the moment stretch. “i get to slap you.”

your lips pressed into a thin line, your expression unimpressed. “you think I’m going to let you hit me? no thanks. i’ll pass.”

he chuckled, his smile never wavering. “not a fan of the classics, i see. alright, how about something more… engaging?”

you narrowed your eyes. “like?”

the recruiter’s eyes were gleaming with mischief. “you let me blindfold you, and I’ll trace something on your hand. if you can guess what it is, i’ll give you 100,000 won. if you can’t…” he let the sentence hang, his meaning clear in the loaded pause.

your heart skipped a beat, but you masked your unease with a smirk. “and what happens if I lose?”

“nothing too terrible.” his gaze lingered on your lips, his tone laced with something dark. “just a kiss. one you won’t forget.”

"…okay." you couldn’t deny the mans handsomeness. and you wouldn’t really mind kissing him so what’s the harm?

his smile widened, and it felt like you’d made a mistake.

the man reached into his briefcase, pulling out a thin, black blindfold. you hesitated for a moment as he gently placed the blindfold over your eyes, the world was plunged into darkness.

his hands were cold as ice, but surprisingly dexterous as he traced something onto your skin. you tried to concentrate, feeling the faint pressure of his fingertips as he moved across your skin, creating an unknown shape.

“any guesses?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

you tried to focus. your senses heightened in the absence of sight. the subway station's noises seemed distant and muffled, every other sensation overshadowed by the tickling of the pen across your hand.

"it feels like...a heart..." you guessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

the man let out a warm chuckle, his breath brushing against her skin.

"very good," he praised, but there was a predatory edge to his voice now, like he'd just won more than a game. "see? It wasn't so hard, was it?" he placed the stack of money in your hand, the blindfold still securely in place. "now, are you brave enough for one more challenge?"

you swallowed heavily, your hesitation evident in the silence. your curiosity mingled with a hint of dread, a shiver running down you spine.

"what kind of challenge?" you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

"a harmless one," he assured, his tone oozing with a hint of mockery. "just another guessing game. i’ll ask a few questions, and if you answer truthfully, i'll give you the money. but if I catch you lying..." his voice trailed off.

"what happens if you catch me lying?" you asked tentatively, your heart hammering against her chest.

"well," the man replied, a touch of amusement in his tone. "you'll owe me more than just a kiss.”

you could almost picture his sly grin, the thrill of uncertainty and anticipation coursing through your veins.

"...fine. ask your question," you finally conceded, your voice steady despite your nervousness

"good." he sounded pleased with your compliance. "set's start small first. why are you waiting for a train this late at night?” his tone remained light and casual, almost lulling her into a false sense of comfort.

“i had to work and extra shift for money so i got off work late.”

"you must really need the money," the recruiter commented, his voice dripping with a subtle taunt. "working late and playing games with strangers to earn some money. desperation can be quite the motivator, can't it?"

he lingered on the word 'desperation', his tone laden with sinister implications.

your lips pressed together in a fine line, jaw clenching. his words stung, the truth lancing your pride. this man clearly enjoyed toying with your vulnerability. but you didn't allow yourself to react, keeping your guard up. "what's your next question?"

"are you alone right now? anyone waiting for you at home?" he asked, his tone shifting into something softer, almost sympathetic.

there was something almost...calculating about the way he asked. like he was gathering information about you for a reason. the kindness almost veiled an ulterior motive.

you hesitated, your instinct telling you not to give too much away. you didn’t really believe his ability to catch you lying so you took your chance. "my roommate is expecting me."

the man didn't reply immediately, and when he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper. "i don’t believe you.” your breath caught up in your throat. “i told you i’ll catch you if you lied, beautiful."

a shiver went down your spine at the dark undertone in his voice. his words, delivered with a chilling gentleness, held an undeniable threat.

a moment of tense silence lingered before he spoke again, his tone almost mocking.

"you should know better than to lie. now, I suggest you answer my question truthfully. unless you're in the mood for a different kind of punishment?"

you trembled under the weight of his thinly veiled threat. your mind raced with possibilities, terror mixing with the lingering hope that he was just a madman with silly tricks.

"i..." you began, your voice cracking slightly. "im not lying."

the man's silence was almost suffocating, the tension in the air palpable as you awaited his response.

finally, he spoke, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and dark intent. "oh, but you are lying."

he paused, letting the silence stretch and your anticipation grow. "rules are rules, sweetheart. you may have a quick tongue and a pretty face, but it won't protect you from the consequences of your actions."

he shuffled closer. "i don't like liars. but I have a soft spot for pretty ones."

his voice was closer now, almost a whisper against your ear as he spoke, his breath tickling against your skin.

"so i'll be gentle with you."

a shiver of anticipation and fear ran down your spine at his proximity. his breath against your ear sent a chill through you, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. you could almost picture his smirk, the sadistic pleasure he derived from your predicament.

his promise of 'being gentle' was devoid of any reassurance, instead sounding more like a veiled threat of something much darker lurking beneath his words.

that’s how you found yourself in his apartment, still blindfolded.

he led you into the dimly lit apartment, the sound of the door clicking shut echoed behind you, sealing you into the unknown. fear and uncertainty clawed at your senses, heightened by the blindfold that kept you in the dark.

he led you to a couch, his grip firm but not tight, as if he was guiding a prized possession.

"sit." he instructed, his voice almost silky.

you heard some clinking noise before he came back to you, standing infront of you. you felt a sharp, cold object caress your skin making you gasp. a knife. he moved it from your arm, to your chest, to your neck then up to your chin lifting your head up.

he slowly lifted the blindfold up with the tip of the knife. you blinked, adjusting to the dim light of the room, and your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself locked in the intense gaze of him.

a smirk played on his lips, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes, as if the knife in his hand held the power to determine your fate. there was an undeniable charm to him, his confidence and control only adding to the tension.

the blade of the knife gently kept your chin up, the cool metal like a gentle but menacing caress against your skin.

the cold edge a stark of the knife contrasted against your heated face. "you're a beauty, aren't you?" he mused

the blade lingered at the hollow of your throat, the threat not quite masked by the hint of playfulness in his tone. "tell me, what's your name?”

he hummed and said your named out loud when you told him, like he was testing how it sounded from his lips.

“so here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. im gonna fuck you. ‘m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to lie ever again. and don’t even think about screaming or asking for help, no one will hear you. or if you try to somehow hurt me to make me stop…” he stopped to lift the knife from your chin and look at it. “i’ll kill you. with this very knife. okay, beautiful?”

you just nodded with wide eyes, too scared to talk.

“perfect.”

then he kissed you. with such kindness it almost made you forget that he just threatened to kill you.

he pulls away to get a look at your face but wastes no time to get back to your lips. this kiss is nothing like the first. it’s filthier, rawer. a near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

his teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp. he takes advantage of it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

his hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t pick where he wants to touch first.

you’re moving before you even realize it. he picks you up and places you on his lap to sit himself down onto the couch. using his strength to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

you make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined when his wandering lips finds your neck to start nibbling on it. his hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small moan from you. hooking his fingers under the waistband of your skirt, he yanks your skirt and panties down your legs.

your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his pants. he tuts lightly into your neck as you instinctively buck against him. “such a slut. so wet for me. for the man who could kill you at any given moment.”

he pushes your shirt and bra down just enough to get your breasts out. taking one of your heaving tits in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his teeth scraping over your nipple. He bites the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “oh fuck,” you gasp.

releasing your breast with a wet pop he unbelts himself and unbuttons his pants to release himself. his cock rested on his boxers, a small patch of wetness decorating the white cloth.

he held your hand and guided to the hem of his boxers, signaling you to take it off. you do as he wished. you pulled the fabric down just enough to free his dick. it flicked out and hit his abdomen. the tip red and leaking with precum. with your hand still in his, he made you hold the base of his length and moved it up and down, hand in hand.

you worked on his cock as he guided you. he throbbed in your hand, “y’feel that? feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

he grunted as you pumped his length in you little hand. his hands found their way to your pussy. he spread your wetness on your lips and played with your clit making you moan.

“sir!” you didn’t know his name so you just blurted out what you could think of in your dizzy state.

“what did you just call me?”

“…s-sir” you answered with a shaky voice, afraid of what he might do.

with a smack landing on the flesh of your ass he lined himself up with your slit before showing himself in you, alerting you and causing you to jolt but he grabbed both of your arms, holding you in place as he thrusted himself up to you with a moan.

he held a firm grip on your wrist ,as he held them behind your back, as he pistoled his pelvis into you making you cry out.

“yeah, baby, that feel good?” you nod, “mhm.” he pulls you by your hair, “what’s that?” your head was so fuzzy, all you could feel was his fat cock kissing your cervix. “ye-yes, sir. feels so good.” you manage out.

you could feel yourself soaking the patch of hair before his cock. he suddenly flips you over, landing on you hand and knees, holding yourself up. he wasted no time to shove himself back into you. his heavy balls slapped against your sensitive nub, causing your legs to quiver. a tear streamed down your face. the pleasure, the pain, the weight of his body was all so overwhelming.

you sniffle as more single tears fall. “shhh, oh sweet girl.” he cooed. his arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand reached to tangle his hand un your hair and the other holding his hand on your waist. he pulled you up by your hair, your back against his chest, and bit into your neck making you yelp. he placed a kiss over the bite mark to soothe away the pain, his lips warm over the bruised skin.

his hips continued slapping against your own as your stomach started to fill up with warmth. he could tell you were close as you clenched around his dick. “gonna cum,” you moaned.

he stopped moving suddenly to spank you. the weight of his hand landing on your ass, harshly, leaving a red hand mark over your skin making you let out a sound. a mixture of a moan and a scream. “if you wanna come…you’re gonna need to ask nicely. where are your manners?”

“‘m sorry! please let me cum sir! i need it! p-please…” his hips started moving again, pleased by your begging. he held you still by hugging you at your waist as he snapped himself up at you. the obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his broad chest.

the tension snapped inside you, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, your body convulsing around his cock as you cried out with pleasure. his hand found your neck as he felt you spasming around him. with the intensity of your orgasm and his grip on your neck you felt lightheaded.

his cock pulsing as he felt your breaths get less and less visible as you slowly blacked out, he came hard, filling you with his cum.

slowly, he pulled out making you collapse onto the couch as he let you go of his hold. his cum already starting to drip from your swollen pussy, and he watched with satisfaction, his hand sliding down to push his seeping cum back into your pulsating pussy.

he then slapped you a few times to get you back to consciousness. when you opened your eyes his eyes met yours once again, full of hunger.

“im not done with you just yet, beautiful.”

[sweetfictionalworld]

Hey darling, I was thinking if we could get some Salesman x curvy! fem reader. So you've just got home from work and decided to have a soak in a bath. The reader started to feel frustrated and slid a hand between her legs. He's watching her behind the bathroom door. He does the same & maybe licks the gun pretending it's her🐱

Warnings: Nsfw

Author's notes: Thanks for the request! It's short but I hope you like it ♡ Written from the Salesman's pov.

He hadn't been able to get you off his mind since the day he challenged you to Ddakji. Countless nights, he had touched himself at the imagines of your soft and curvy body beneath him, imagining your plump, round ass wriggling as he fucked you from behind. He had followed you that night, found out where you lived. And here he was, hiding behind the open bathroom door and watching you touch yourself, licked his lips at the sight of your soft tits bouncing in the water.

Fuck...

He groaned quietly and zipped down his slacks, grunting as his hand wrapped around his throbbing member. His gaze was locked on your hand between your inner thighs, mesmerized by the movement of your round hips bucking against your hand.

He took out his gun, licking the hole of the barrel, imagining it was the warm, wet hole of your pussy. He stroke his cock impatiently, pumped it faster and faster to match the pace of your fingers thrusting into your pussy. A few seconds later and you came, your moans echoing between the bathroom walls as your body tensed and your hips bucked erratically against your hand. He came at the same time, holding back a loud growl as his cock jerked and twitched, squirting his cum on the floor.

He smirked as he tucked himself back into his pants and entered the bathroom. He was going to have a little fun with you before you had to leave for the games....

[voxslays]

SQUID GAMES MEN AS FATHERS — PART 2

part one here

HWANG JUN-HO

⚝ This policeman couldn’t be more excited when he finds out you’re pregnant. Like his brother, he has always wanted to have a family, and maybe one or two children. So, when he hears the news, he couldn’t be happier!

⚝ Like Dae-ho, Jun-ho would be extremely prepared. He would but putting together the nursery at the end of your first trimester, and picking your future baby’s names at the beginning of the second. Jun-ho is very overly excited, but what new father wouldn’t be?

⚝ When your new baby is finally welcomed into the world, Jun-ho can’t help but hug you warmly, congratulating you and wiping the sweat from your forehead, telling you how well you did as you hold the little bundle of joy in your arms.

THE SALESMAN

⚝ Gong Yoo is definitely the most calm out of the three. Don’t get me wrong, he is happy and he does have a smile on his face. He will gently twirl you around your shared penthouse as he kisses you.

⚝ The salesman will wait until the second trimester to start getting things ready for your new addition to the family. He won’t let you lift a finger or go out in public by yourself, in fear that his enemies (Gi-hun) might harm you.

⚝ Gong Yoo smiles calmly as he holds his newborn son for the first time in his arms, only minutes after the birth. He couldn’t be more proud of you, or feel more pride at the little bundle of joy calmly sleeping in his warm arms.

SEONG GI-HUN

⚝ Gi-hun is scared, terrified even. The last time he was married with a child, it ended with a divorce and his daughter was taken overseas. Gi-hun knows he should’ve been a better father, and his mistakes still haunt him to this day.

⚝ Yet, for some reason, when Gi-hun hears the news, he is so excited. Like a little cinnamon bun. His childlike joy shines through all the hardships and traumas of the games. So, Gi-hun does everything in his power to make sure you’re comfortable.

⚝ When you hand your infant into his arms for the first time, he can’t help the large, beaming smile that bursts onto his face as your little baby grabs onto one of his fingers with its small fist. He couldn’t have felt anything but love and adoration in that moment.

[prettycopperpennies]

They Take Care Of/Comfort You When You're Sick

Anonymous asked:

Could I request a Squid Game preference (with the usual characters) where the reader has a cold/fever or something and they take care of them, or vice versa?

Squid Games x GN!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~Hwang In-ho would hear the sniffles when you called asking for a favor and he would immediately check in on you

~”Darling are you alright?”

~Even over the phone he would be able to clock you were sick before you asked him to bring you cold medicine

~You could tell him all you wanted not to worry, to just bring it whenever he was free, but he would drop everything to come over. As he showed up within half an hour you would know he had done just that

~You could try to apologize or insist he didn’t need to go out of his way for you. You could have waited till he was free

~But as he tucked a hair behind your ear, your guilty resolve would quickly melt away

~He would mean every word, and wouldn’t hear anything against it. You can’t keep him away when you need help. Even if the situation is as lowkey as a simple cold

~”How do you expect me to get anything done when I know you’re here suffering?”

~If you warned him you might get him sick, he would still keep the same attitude: insisting he wanted to be there for you

~Every soothing smile and gentle hand on your back, arm, shoulder would weaken your argument. You both knew you wanted him to stay

~You would end up asleep in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder

~And he would be happy to pamper you through your cold

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~He would notice your red nose and fever flushed cheeks and would immediately feel a little tug on his heart

~No matter how much you insisted he should stay away because you didn’t want to get him sick, he would be able to tell you really didn’t mean it. He knew you well enough to be able to clock when you didn’t want to be left alone

~You two would end up on opposite ends of the couch, as a feeble attempt to keep himself healthy, playing video games

~But thanks to your cold your mind would be too foggy to really focus, and after the millionth time losing at Mario Kart you would finally quit

~You’d make him change the video game over and over again, not liking how much energy each took. He’d go along with it, not complaining. 

~You had no idea the amount of power you had on him at that moment. He wouldn't be able to say no to anything you wanted, feeling too bad for how miserable you seemed thanks to your cold

~It would be awhile before you admitted you actually wanted to sit and watch him play something instead

~As time would go on, he wouldn’t be able to ignore your sad, sick state from the other side of the couch. You would finally notice his state when he sighed loudly. You could ask him what was wrong, but he would only answer by pulling you onto his lap.

~”You’ll get sick.” “Yeah, I know.”

~You’d smile as he rested his head atop your own and wrapped his arms around you to keep playing the video game.

~If he noticed you getting at all amused by him finally caving, he would of course have to defend himself

~”You were sitting there looking miserable! It’s emotional blackmail.”

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~Choi Su-Bong would come and get you the second you called, no matter where you were or what he was doing.

~He couldn’t be able to stop himself from getting anxious when you first called; sniffling, telling him you feel awful, and you need a ride

~He would show up in a matter of minutes. It would be so quick you could only presume he had sped to get to you. Of course, you’d already be feeling better as he smiled at you from the driver’s seat through the front window

~If you apologized, explaining you didn’t feel good enough to drive or didn’t want to take the bus, but he would shut that down immediately

~”Baby, I’ll come get you whenever.”

~He’d hold your hand the whole ride. It didn’t matter if he was driving with one hand or two, he wouldn’t ever signal (it was an argument you two had a million times). So you would let him intertwine his fingers with your own as you two would make it home

~He would of course make a pit stop along the drive at your guilty pleasure bakery. He would keep the car running after noticing your shivering so you could keep the heat going as you waited for him to come back

~Within minutes you would have a bag of baked goods on your lap as the two of you went home

~If you want medicine you’d have to remind him to grab that along the way too. Su-bong wanted to help you feel better, but the logical approach is not necessarily at the front of his mind

~If your cold got to you, and suddenly you were tearing up over how nice he would find it amusing. You would be met with a large smile and a laugh

~”You’re weepy when your sick”

~After some lighthearted teasing he’d wrap a hand around the base of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. You’d try to warn him, but he’d of course say he didn’t care

~And you both would spend the next few days getting over a cold together

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

.

~Kang Dae-ho would come over the second you called asking for his company while you tried to get over your cold

~”I think I’m getting sick. Maybe… Do you think you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

~He would be at your place even before you hung up, which wouldn't surprise you even a little. What would surprise you even less is the arm fulls of cough drops and the tea he brought with him

~You wouldn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he was wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You would be lifted up a little bit as he tightened his grip around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck

~”You definitely have a fever”

~Your close proximity would let him feel the fever radiating off you. He wouldn’t care though, immediately following up the hug by telling you to scoot over

~He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, telling you that you were stuck with him all day

~And he would stay true to his word. He would be hanging around, making you warm/good for you food, watching popcorn movies, and whatever else he could think might make you feel better/distract you

~Every time you reacted to his sweet gestures with even the most miniscule of happiness, he would feel immensely pleased with his efforts and how it was making you feel at least a little better

~And by the time night rolled around you wouldn’t really need to convince him. He’d stay over, more than happy to appease you in your clingy state

The Recruiter

~As soon as he finds out your sick he’d be showing up to bring you to his house

~He’d find it very amusing if you warned him you would definitely get germs all over his house. He would point out you did get in his car, so how worried could you really be?

~Either way, warnings or not, you would end up on his couch buried under blankets with your guilty pleasure tv show playing

~He would be lounging on the other side of the couch, his arm resting across the back, and biting back a smile as he pretending not to notice how often your gaze wandered over to him

~He knew how clingy you could get when you were sick, but he couldn't help but wonder if you would admit it yourself if he was patient enough

~And eventually you would mention you were cold, and he would offer more blankets or to turn up the heat. You’d give excuses for every offer till he would finally ask you flat out if you had anything specific in mind

~As you refused to cave with a sniffle and a “I guess not”, he would be the one to fold. He couldn't watch you suffer through a cold and pout on the other side of the couch

~He’d be pulling you over to cuddle, letting you bury him in your blankets as well, with an amused chuckle over how you absolutely did not fight it

~”But you don’t want me to get sick, right?”

~If you feigned innocence or pretended not to hear him over the tv show, he wouldn’t call you out further. He wouldn't’ have it in him to argue with you (even playfully) when you feel so under the weather